The Ropes That Tie Us Together
by xoDestroya
Summary: Kyle turns suicidal after a string of horrific events. When he decides he is sick of life, the one most unexpected person saves him. Will Kyle find a reason to go on now that he has found someone who loves him? Or will the idea of death become what he really wants? WARNING: SLASH EVENTUAL KYMAN AND OTHER PAIRINGS. RATED M FOR NON-CON, VIOLENCE, DRUGS, ABUSE AND SEX. DARK THEMES.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Hey you gahs! So yep, my first, and probs last fic. Anyways, please read, it's gonna be in mostly kyles pov, but there will also be some cartman and a tiny bit of stan and kenny. Review?

"Shane! Oh my... Oh yeah! Fuck, oh Shane!"

I cringed, grimacing at the horrific sounds that vibrated through the ceiling above me. I reached for the TV remote and stabbed my thumb down on the increase volume button. Despite my best efforts to drown out my Mom's screaming with Terrance and Philip farting on each other, I could still hear everything. A loud banging from upstairs and more sexual noises, then I finally decided I was sick of it.

"Ay!" I shouted up to them at the top of my lungs. "Would you shut the fuck up? I'm trying to watch TV!"

Soon after I said this, the voices become much quieter, but not quite silent. "Stupid whore," I muttered to myself under my breath. I glared at the 42" HD flat screen in front of me, trying to watch Terrance and Philip in peace. It appeared I was too pissed off to pay attention though.

It put me in a shit mod for the rest of the day. I hated it when that slut I call my Mom just goes and has sex with any guy she feels like, not even taking me into consideration. Stupid bitch. The least she could do is go to their house instead. That way, I wouldn't have to put with having to listen to the disgusting sounds of them fucking each other.

Even after all those years of putting up with it, my stomach clenched up, a horrible sick feeling stirring inside of me every time it happened. No other people's Mom's did I know that were like this. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I would happily trade Jew boy's Mom for mine if it meant a quiet night.

It'd gotten a lot worse lately. At least two times a day, a different guy each time, never the same. Don't get me wrong though, for some reason unknown to me, all the guys in South Park are willing to pay some pretty fucking good money to screw my Mom. We don't have any other sources of income, so her dirty hooker money she earns in the bedroom and various other places is what supports our 'family'.

So, yeah. All the guys in this redneck mountain town got be laid, my Mom got paid for it, and I just got seriously fucking fed up.

My life pretty much sucked balls.

There were little things that stopped me from going on homicidal rampages, killing everything I come across. Just little things that didn't make my crappy life seem so bad. Like taking the piss out of Butters, ripping on a certain red head Jew, calling Kenny a trash baby or ghetto boy, and killing people's parents and making chilli out of them. Ah... All of those simple little joys in life. I smile briefly just thinking how my life was before this mess.

But I always wanted more, demanded every drop of power I could get my hands on. There was a craving inside of me I couldn't sedate no matter what I did, hell, I still do have that craving to this day.

So being the arrogant, stubborn asshole I was, I carried on until I was bored. Bored of the same shit every fucking day. Nothing ever changed. I usually got my way and what I wanted, but the thrill was gone.

Looking back, ever since I got out of Mr/Mrs Garrison's class and started High School, life has been more or less just a boring drag. Nothing much else has changed since Elementary. I'm still the total jerk I always have been. I've lost a lot of weight, and if I must admit that I am actually pretty hot now. Stan is the usual pretty boy dumbass he always has been, that'll never change. Kenny is still living in the ghettos of South Park with his ridiculous orange parka. Actually, me and Kenny are a hell of a lot closer that we used to be. I'd almost say I don't hate the poor bastard.

And then there is Kyle. I guess you could say that small, painful, irritating little smartass has changed the most. He's no longer something I can rip on or toy with, despite how much I want to. I barely see him anymore. It's clear why he's changed so dramatically, and I can admit it's my fault.

I honestly do wish I could rewind the last two months of my fucked up life, just go back, and force myself to do the right thing when I saw him in that alley. But, at that point I loathed him so much I gladly watched the gruesome things those people did to him with a stupid grin on my fucking face. I really was a sick bastard. Well, I still am. Of course I always will be an evil, manipulative, cold hearted jackass, but if there was one thing I change in my life, without hesitating, I would have gone back, and saved him that day.

One more sexual cry entered my ears and I decided I wasn't going to listen to this shit anymore. I would rather have Justin Bieber screeching Baby at me for two hours straight. I shot a quick glance at the clock. I had ten minutes to get to school. With a heavy, pissed off groan, I forced myself from the incredibly comfortable sofa and shoved a sausage roll in my mouth.

I was out the door in under a minute - surprisingly fast considering it usually took me five minutes just to track down one of my gloves. I left in my trademarked attire; aqua blue bobbly hat, snuggly warm red coat and my skinny'ish black denim jeans.

Over the years I've noticed that everyone in this fucking god awful town has their own unique style. Kenny has his stupid orange parka that could do with a wash. Stan wears that brown jacket thing and a dark blue bobbly hat no one can separate him from. He loves that thing. Kyle still has his disgusting orange coat that makes me want to puke and that stupid green thing he hides his Jew fro with. Out of all of us, he definitely needs to update his wardrobe the most.

Nothing worth mentioning happened on the bus to school. Nothing ever bloody does anymore. Sure, I pissed off Kyle, laughed at Stan and said something about Kenny's latest whore that made him glare daggers at me. But all of that was so typical, like a routine. Mornings have been more or less the same as this one ever since we were like eight.

I sometimes wondered if the others get bored of this. Surely from the amount of times I've called Kyle a fag, he must be sick of it. I certainly would be if I were him. I should really be ashamed of myself. I'd actually run out of ideas and ingeniously cruel plans to make Kyle squirm. That was definitely my favourite pass time. It still is. Kyle is hilarious to play with, fuck around with and piss off. He gets frustrated so fucking easily it's brilliant.

One of my favourite times was when I gave him AIDS. It was fucking awesome, despite the fact I had them too. Than got we found a cure though. I always knew it would be hard fucking cash. You have to pay for everything theses days.

The rest of the day was uneventful. New ways to torture Jew boy kept creeping into my head, but none of them were any good. Frankly, they were all fucking shit.

It was when I missed the bus home did my life start to have a bit of a spark back in it. I rang my Mom to pick me us, but all I got was an answer phone saying she was busy. No prizes for who guesses what...

Anyway, I decided I would just have to walk home. It was fucking freezing. My balls actually felt as if they were going to drop off because of frost bite. I cringed at the thought. But then the memory of seeing Kyle suck my imaginary balls I smiled evilly. Just as I was thinking of that jew getting down on imaginary Cartman did I see it.

I had gone down a dark alley to try not get covered in more of God's cum as it snowed. It was the kind of alley Barney the dinosaur and other child molesters hang out in. Then I saw him. Kyle. Broken and beaten. He was sprawled out on the cold concrete floor, tears streaming down him bruised and bloody face. I grinned. At the time, I didn't feel even a speck of remorse, only an uncontainable joy bubbling up inside of me. This was certainly new, but I felt disappointed with myself that it wasn't me terrorizing him. Instead three older men were. One of them, bald, mid forties, was pinning him down. It looked painful, his face was being pushed hard into the gravel, his head turned toward me. One of his arms was sticking out at a funny, unnatural angle. I was pretty sure it was broken. I only grinned even more at this.

It was only when I saw that the other man had started unbuckling his belt did I realize their intent. Oh fuck yeah! Kyle was gonna get butt fucked! To further confirm my suspicions, another man, a little younger than the others, began pulling Kyle's waistband on his jeans and underwear down.

Kyle seemed to notice this too, but was far too weak to resist. The most he could do was struggle pathetically.

Oh joy! I fucking loved this! I somehow grinned even further (I don't know how that was possible) and cleared my throat unnecessarily loudly. All four of them looked up at me. The three men looked pissed of at being interrupted, whereas Kyle looked like he had won the lottery. The Jew's striking emerald eyes glimmered with hope as they widened in shock. I could sense someone was about to speak, so I proceeded to do just that before them.

"Holy fuck dude..." I mumbled, slightly shocked at the scene before me. "Why didn't you tell me Kahl? I thought I was your best friend, your supposed to tell your best friend that you're gay," I feigned hurt on my face, but Jew boy didn't seem to fully acknowledge that I wasn't here to help him.

"Oh fuck! Cartman!" His voice was hoarse and weak, but full of hope nonetheless. "Quick! Call for help, please! Now!"

"Don't make me laugh you little bitch," I smiled sweetly at him. His jaw dropped. The men around him still didn't say anything, and only gawked at me with stupid grins on their faces. Freaks.

I turned my back to them. "Catch you later Kahl, you better have done my English homework by the way. It'll be me you'll have to deal with if it's not done,"

"Cartman!" He cried out. "Eric, please..." I ignored him.

"Asshole..." I heard the small squeak of his voice and my grin widened as I walked away.

"No one to help you now, kid," I heard one of them grunt as I went around the corner. I stayed, but out of sight. Call me a fucking freak, but I wanted to hear Kyle's tortures screams of agony as they ripped away his innocence. Now, I didn't want to miss that now, did I?

"N-no..." Kyle's girly voice whimpered. I let out a huff of amusement. "Please, y-you don't understand..." I stiffened slightly. My senses told me this was more than just gang rape.

"Understand what, kid? I'm pretty fucking sure it was you who stole our fucking money!"

Now I was intrigued. Kyle? Stealing money? He is a good for nothing filthy back stabbing, ugly little Jew, but a pathetic one. He will never have the balls to even try something like that.

"Just tell us were it is," I heard a gruff voice. "And I promise not to hurt you, I'll be nice and gent-"

"NO!" Kyle's voice cried out. For a moment, I thought someone would have heard. No one came. "P-please, no! I-I don't know a-anything!" He sounded much more desperate now. With an awful lot of stuttering. He was starting to sound like Butters or Tweak. I snorted at his useless persuasion skills.

"Please... Don't do this... p-please, I'm begging you..." His voice broke. "Please don't hurt me..." He began sobbing pathetically. I laughed quietly to myself. At the time, I found this fucking hilarious.

The men also found it funny and began mocking him cruelly. I waited keenly for the fun part to begin. I was giddy with anticipation at the thought of Kyle being raped. It was almost a turn on.

Almost. That means it wasn't.

Being turned on or hard because of Kyle was just plain sick. At the time.

"Don't worry 'Kaaaahl'," I frowned when they dragged his name out. That's my thing, not theirs. Only I get to do that...

"You'll be begging for more once I'm done,"

The next thing I heard was Kyle's desperate screams penetrating the cold December night.

A/N: Leave a review down in the crotch? Please?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey to those reading! I would just like to say a thanks to the three people who actually did review this fic, iluvkenny - I'm glad you like it seeing as it's a pairing your not too keen on, and well, here is the update you demanded! Alcorion - thankies for the advice, I actually got as friend of mine to beta the first chapter of this, it's been edited and posted, feel free to take a looksie. And to N - I'm glad you like it! And just for you, this chappie is in Kyle's point of view xD

So yepp, big thanks goes out to those guys who can be bothered to review (no offence to those of you who didn't)

Btw, this chapter is very... well, not my best. I wrote it at like 4am last night when I was fucking exhausted, and my betaing friend is too tired to read it, so it will be updated, hopefully a lot better later on. Thanks again guys! -

Chapter Two - - Kyle's POV

I gulped nervously as I walked down the dark, lowly lit street. I could feel a white hot fire burning into my back as if someone were watching me. I couldn't help but feel self conscience. I was pretty sure I was being followed as I slunked into the dark alley. It's pitch blackness was almost a warning to me, the cold barrenness made me shudder. I briefly thought about walking around the long way, but quickly pushed the thought out of my head. I didn't have time for that, Stan was expecting me at his house in just twenty minutes. It's a half hour walk the fast way as it is.

My own footsteps echoed around me, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. It's only when I heard several more around me did I begin to panic. I tried to convince myself I was just being paranoid, but that only made me think of even worse scenarios that I could end up in. At the time, all I could think about was how I felt as if I were in some kind of horror movie. The type were a young girl is followed home by some creep, then murdered some time later. I shook my head ever so slightly. I'm not some little girl, despite what Cartman says about me. I can stick up for myself more than that ignorant little fatass can.

When I first heard hushed voices whispering behind me, I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me. It was only when I heard a sudden loud chuckling did I realize it wasn't my imagination. The laugh was cold, and sent chills running up and down my spine. The footsteps stopped. For some reason, so did mine as I came to a stand still. I found myself frozen. God dammit, why was I so scared? I was acting like a total pussy. I huffed, annoyed at my own actions. It's only a dark creepy alley with a group of blood thirst murderers behind you Kyle, don't be such a fucking wimp…

But why was I so scared?

I mean, at the time I was practically shitting bricks. Maybe it was a sixth sense of mine or something. It was as if I could sense danger. If only I has used that power to get away from there as fast as possible.

I wanted desperately to turn around and see who was behind me, but I found myself frozen. I think any other day I would have just span around, middle finger in the air and told them to fuck off. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't. I wish I did, at least that way I would have looked at least slightly brave.

"Kyle Broflovski,"

I froze. I didn't know whether or not to be utterly terrified, or extremely pissed off. I eventually went with terrified as I felt the hairs all over my body stand on end. My insides suddenly went cold and the gut wrenching feeling of dread spread throughout me. How the fuck did they know my name? What were they after? Why were they following me? Countless question sprung into my head, each begging to be answered.

I briefly considered that Cartman was trying to pull some sick kind of joke on me. If he was, it would certainty be something new. He hasn't come up with one original way of annoying me in over two months. My skin crept as I turned around, expecting to see a great big grin on fatass's face.

Instead, I saw three men glaring at me, a cold hatred in their eyes. My breathing hitched as my heart skipped a beat. My mind went blank as I tried to think of something to do. At first, my eyes were glued to them. I took in every detail before me. I didn't recognise any of them, which didn't explain why they knew my fucking name. They didn't look very happy with me either. I gulped.

"Um, yes?" I asked. My voice squeaked and came out more of a weak, pitiful whimper than the determined tone I tried to use. My throat felt dry and parched. I swallowed once again, my throat stinging as I did so. I saw a faint glint of amusement light up in the closet mans eyes. They trailed down from my face to the left where my rucksack was swung round on my shoulder. I quickly worked out what they wanted, but for some stupid reason, my brain would not fucking work properly. All I could do was stare at him, dumb founded. Noticing my hesitation, he gestured for me to hand it over. I frowned. Why would they even want my school bag? The most interesting thing in there was the porno magazine Kenny asked me to hold on to. "Huh?" I gawked at him. Gah! Why was I acting so fucking gormless? They must have thought I was retarded or something by now.

"Hand it over," grunted the man on the left. He had his hood up and didn't look very healthy. He was shorter than the other two. My frown deepened. "Wha…?" I mumbled, my tongue not fucking doing what it was supposed to.

"Just give us the fucking bag already!" I flinched at the man on the rights tone. He was the youngest. No more than a few years older than me.

"Oh," I slipped it off my shoulder slowly, then threw it forward, silently hoping it would hit one of them. When the middle one caught it with ease, a tiny speck of disappointment hit me.

"Is it there?" The hooded one asked excitedly. The middle man, bald and probably the oldest ripped the zip open then took a look inside. I knew I was in trouble when I saw the anger and annoyance on his face.

"Shut the fuck up," the younger one hissed , glaring at hoodie. Obviously he was unaware of his boss' soon to come pissed off mood.

"Where the heck is it?" he looked up from the bag. His eyes bored into mine. I shifted around uncomfortably. I didn't even know what the fuck they wanted!

"Well I don't fucking know," I spat, finding my inner confidence once again. I almost smiled, but restrained myself. " I don't even know what the fuck you're 'onna 'bout,"

His eyes widened in disbelief. Hoodie and his friend exchanged an awkward glance.

"You're gonna tell me where my money is right now, or I will fucking rape you," his threat was serious, his tone deadly. I gulped, unsure of how to respond. I considered telling him my imaginary self has already sucked on Eric Cartman's balls. It couldn't get much worse than that. But I didn't. I had a feeling I would only dig myself a deeper hole by saying shit like that.

"I told you, I don't know," how the fuck I managed to keep my voice calm and collected right then, I have no clue. My palms were sweating and I was already trembling at the thought of rape.

The creepy middle man smiled. I shuddered. It was the same smile Cartman would give me just before doing something horrible. He stepped forward.

"Are you sure about that? 'Cos you're probably worth about the three grand you stole," he towers over me, much taller than he looked a minute ago. Why do I have to be so fucking small?

I nodded meekly. What else was I supposed to do? Pull three thousand dollars out of my ass?

"Fucking piece of shit," he spat and I felt my arms being restrained. I hadn't noticed the other two getting ready to grab me. Ah, fuck. I saw a quick flash of anger in his burning eyes before he sent his fist plummeting toward me. My head swung around to the side violently by the impact. A red hot pain scolded my face before my bottom lip started throbbing. I gritted my teeth, doing my best to ignore the pain.

My eyes began darting around, desperately searching for some kind of escape. It was useless though. If I screamed or yelled for help, no one would hear. This was the dead part of town. Only freaks like the ones beating the crap out of me hang out around here. I thrashed wildly, kicking out my limbs and hoping they would connect with something, There was no was I could break free ff their grip though, it was too tight, and really starting to hurt my right arm especially. It was being twisted around unnecessarily hard, sending pain shooting through my whole body. I felt another blow to my face that instantly made my eye sting like fuck. I still couldn't get my head round why they were even doing this to me. All I wanted to do was take a short cut to meet Stan…

"Shi-ARGG!" I roared through clenched teeth. My arm couldn't take the tension and pressure as it was being pushed way passed it's limits. "YOU'RE GOING TO BREAK MY FUCKING ARM!" I yelled, doubling over as I took a punch in the gut. I spluttered, winded then began gasping for air. My eyes stung, but not because of having his fist smashed into my face. Tears were welling up in my eyes and I blinked back at them madly whilst trying to keep my mouth shut at the same time. I heard a snapping sound, slow and long like when your breaking a tough branch in half. Pain ripped through me like a tornado, but I withheld the scream building up in more raw throat. I felt something wet trickling down my face.

"So, do you know where my money is now?"

I shook my head, squeezing me eyes shut. My arm stopped being torn from it's socket for a moment. The pain was still tearing me apart, but for just a few seconds, it felt slightly more bearable. Then it got worse. I let out a strangled cry, unable to contain it any longer. "Fuck…" I managed to say weakly in a tortured voice as I felt my body slump forward. The only thought I could process fully was why the fuck were they doing this? What king of proof did they even have that I stole their stupid, fucking money? None! I bet they just saw me and decided, 'fuck it, let's go terrorize that kid and maybe our stolen cash will materialize in his bag'. FUCKING JACKASSES! I wanted to shout that aloud but I was too scared to even open my mouth. The terror I would begin screaming in pain stopped me from doing so.

The only thing that stopped me from passing out from the pain was the hope I could save my strength and cry for help once they were gone. I clenched my teeth so I hard I feared my jaw would split as I felt myself crash to the ground. Relief was just about to come flooding toward me when I realized they weren't done with me yet. Someone pinned me hard to the ground, digging their knee into my back. My whole body felt limp and I could barely bring myself to open my eyes as a darkness began eating up my vision. Then I remembered what he said earlier. Rape…

THEY WERE GOING TO FUCKING RAPE ME.

No… no nononono…. What did I do to deserve this? For fucks sake I'm not even fifteen yet! This can't be fucking happening? Panic bubbled up inside of me, but there was nothing I could do. I was helpless. Pathetic. Weak. I couldn't even lift my head up. I felt someone pulling at the waistband of my jeans. I struggled to bat the hand away, but failed.

Then, I heard something. Someone had cleared their throat, rather loudly at that too. My eyes darted up in hope of being saved. They widened in shock and disbelief when I saw Cartman standing at the end of the alley, staring at me. I was just about to speak when I heard him say something. He sounded muffled though, and I couldn't make out a word of it. Was I deaf? Had one of my ears been damaged as I got beaten up? I moved my head slightly which helped a little.

"Oh, fuck! Cartman!" I cried out weakly, my throat burning. "Quick! Call for help, please! Now!" I began pleading for his help, but I was quickly cut off.

"Don't make me laugh you little bitch," the brunette smiled smugly. "Catch you later Kahl, you better have done my English homework by the way. It'll be me you'll have to deal with if it's not done," his smile widened. The small fragment of hope inside of died. "Cartman!" I yelled, grimacing at the pain caused by raising my voice. His eyes met mine. I gave him my coldest glare, but I was still desperate for help. "Eric, Please!" His first name sounded weird as it came from my lips. When he only continued smiling evilly, a distinct hatred in his dark eyes, I knew it was hopeless. "Asshole..." I wasn't sure if this was going to be the last time I would see him or not. I at least wanted him to know what I thought of him. He turned, and just walked away.

I was shell-shocked to say the least. I always knew he hated me, but I never actually thought he would just leave me to die like this.

"No one to help you now, kid," the man pinning me down told me.

"N-no…" my voice was weak and pathetic. "Please, y-you don't understand..."

"Understand what, kid? I'm pretty fucking sure it was you who stole our fucking money!"

"Just tell us were it is," he said to me in a soft, but gruff voice. "And I promise not to hurt you, I'll be nice and gent-"

"NO!" I roared, crying out. It was one last attempt to try make someone hear me, but I'm pretty sure no one did. "P-please, no! I-I don't know a-anything!" My voice was a desperate begging tone. I couldn't help but feel degraded. I may as well have been the shit on the sole of his shoe. "Please... Don't do this... p-please, I'm begging you..." My voice broke as more tears came streaming down my cheeks. I didn't look up to see what they were doing, only heard the sound of fabric being rustled around, he was pulling his pants down. "Please don't hurt me..."

"Don't worry 'Kaaaahl'," he spoke with venom, reminding me of that evil bastard. "You'll be begging for more once I'm done," I gulped, then squeezed my eyes shut so hard it hurt as I braced myself for what was bound to come next.

I felt everything as he pushed himself inside of me. Everything that resembled pain, hatred, or any other form of evil. I directed it all to Cartman, praying that son of a fucking bitch dies. I don't know how long it lasted, the only sense of time I had was counting each thrust he made in my body. I gritted my teeth against it, doing everything I could to block it all out. The only thing I wanted then was to die. For it to be over. Anything to escape the psychopath tormenting me in one of the cruellest ways possible.

I wished he would just kill me.

"WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE! KYLE? WHAT THE FUCK?" I heard a loud yelling and instantly recognized the voice. Usually monotonous, it was lined with confusion, panic and anger.

"Get the fuck 'outta here, kids or I'll fucking kill you myself," I felt him slip from me. I used my good hand to yank my pants up, trying to remain with at least a shred of my dignity. My eyes snapped open and began searching or whoever called my name.

"Oh, J-Jesus! What the-nng, h-heck?" I heard a twitchy voice ahead of me and I quickly found my saviours. When my eyes landed On Craig holding hands with Tweak I wasn't sure if I should be glad they were here, or if I should be worried that they would get themselves killed. These men were dangerous, they'd already proved that.

Craig had Tweaks hand grasped in his which made me frown, but that was the least of my worries. I didn't really stop to think about it. They both looked horrified, but in different ways. Craig's pissed off looking face told me he was seriously fucking angry. I've never actually seen him look this scary before. Tweak looked absolutely terrified, hiding behind the fourteen year old boy in front of him, pushing his face into Craig's shoulder

"I think he's DEAD!" Screamed Tweak, then he jumped backwards slightly, still holding onto Craig's gloved hand.

"I said FUCK OFF," the voice of the older man yelled viciously. This scared Tweak as he jumped again, whereas Craig glared at him., then flipped him off rather casually.

"Get away from Kyle," he spoke calmly, much different to how he yelled a few moments ago. Behind me, the man sneered.

"We're not done. These two haven't had a go yet, and boy… Was he good," I flinched in response to what he said. I saw the man stumble forward across me as I lay sprawled out on the floor, unable to move. As he approached Craig, he reached into his pocket. I saw a quick flash of a silver blade as he whipped out a small, but deadly looking pen knife. Fuck.

"I'll give you one last chance, get the fuck 'outta here," the man threatened. Craig smiled slightly at this. He stuck his hand in his pocket, then pulled out what looked like a gun. Even in my drowsy painful state, I still managed to be a little shocked at seeing such a weapon in Craig Tucker's hand, poised, and ready to shoot.

"I'll stay thanks,"

"Crap…" I heard one of the men who had been more or less silent up until now speak. "He's got a gun. A fucking GUN. What do we do?" he hissed at his 'partner'.

"Get the fuck outta here, that's what, let's go!" I heard a scurrying of footsteps from behind. Craig frowned, noticing the two people running away.

"I don't think they will be having a go…" He murmured, staring after them. The rapist turned. His face turned blank when he saw he was all on his own. He span back around to face Craig, and Tweak who didn't even dare look up.

"Now, now…" he put his hands out in front of him. "We don't want an'body getting hurt now, do we?" He said in a quiet, but clearly pan iced voice. He was shit scared of the gun. If I wasn't lying here half dead, I probably would have probably found the situation fucking hilarious. Craig's face turned sour with disgust.

"It's a bit late for that! Look at what the fuck you did to Kyle!" He waved his gun at me. I nearly flinched. "You fucking killed him you sick freak!"

I frowned. So from over there, I look dead to them. I try sum up all of my will power to get up, or at least pull myself up into a sitting position. As soon a I twitch a finger, Pain rains down relentlessly on me like I'm being pelted by three hundred bullets per second.

"Just put the gun down kid…" He uses a calming, voice, trying to stop Craig from killing him. "And then everybody can go home happy,"

"Just go before I shoot you in the fucking balls."

Instantly, the man backs away nervously before legging it down the alley in an attempt to escape. As soon as he's gone, Tweak says something I can't quite hear to Craig, and he murmurs something back before they both dash toward me. As soon as they were close enough to see there worried faces properly, I let myself fall into the blackness.

A/N: hi again. Like I said, not my best and it will probaby change quite a lot. I;m still not exactly sure where this fic is going to go, I pretty much just let it write itself xD

Sooo, please, leave a review down in the crotch!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N hey guys, I am just about to start chapter three. I'm afraid to say this might be the last one I put up because I just don't know if anyone is really enjoying this story. I am NOT pressing for reviews, but if your one of those people who reads a fic, but doesn't review, could you please make this one exception for me? All I want to know is what you are thinking about this fic. It's just that I don't really see the point in continuing to post it if there is no one reading it. So please, just be honest with me guys, even if you just tell me that it is crap, I would rather know that I am a bad writer and try improve, than stay bad and not do anything about it. But to those of you who did review, a big thanks once again!

Chapter three! Stan's POV - -

"Stanley! Dinner's ready!" I heard my Mom call to me and with a groan, I got up. With a surprisingly loud yawn I stretched my arms out in front of me for a moment before letting them fall to my sides. Honestly, I wasn't even hungry. Especially after what I had just seen. I was just casually browsing my Face Book, which was boring as fuck like it usually is, when I came across a video. Loads of people seemed to be raging in the comments, so I decided to have a look… Oh God, why did I do that?

The last thing I expected to a see was a video of some fat girl sucking on a used tampon.

Fucking disgusting, but still pretty funny. I was kind of trying not to laugh at the same time as trying not to throw up .  
Speaking of throwing up, Wendy broke up with me again yesterday. Don't know why she did, she never fucking tells me any more. I just shrugged it off though, it wasn't anything new. I lost count of the amount of times we've broken up a long, long time ago, all the way back in Elementary I think. We'll get back together though, we always do. It's usually about two to three days after she dumps me does she turn up with some flowers and an apology. She's so sweet it hurts sometimes. I smiled thinking about her, Don't get me wrong, dude. We may break up more than Taylor Swift has boyfriends, but she's my world. We just need space from each other every now and then. It annoys me when Kyle doesn't understand this. He's always raging on about how if I really do love her, I'd make more of an effort. He doesn't get that our relationship is just how it is, it's just how things work between us.

But I didn't dwell on the thought for too long when my appetite seemed to appear out of nowhere. My stomach grumbled. God, I was fucking starving. I grinned when I caught a whiff of bacon.  
Lovely, beautiful, amazing, sweet, heavenly, juicy fucking bacon. It's the one thing in the world I love more than Wendy. I practically lose myself in the mouth watering aroma as I drift downstairs. By the time I arrive at the dinner table I'm in a bacon trance. How the fuck Kyle lives without this stuff is beyond me. Being a Jew would be awful to me, for that one reason only.

"You're an amazing person, you know me so God damn well," I thanked Mom, taking a seat. I stuffed a bacon sandwich in my mouth and relished in the perfect flavor of perfectness.  
"No problem Stanley… Shelly!" Mom snapped at my sister. "I know you're getting your braces off next week, but please, could you please stop messing with them while you have food in your mouth?"  
"But I want nem off now! I have a boyfriend remember?" Spit flew from her mouth, totally grossing me out. What a freak.  
"Dude, I really don't know how the fuck you managed that," I chuckled, but then received a nasty look from my Mom.  
"Stanley please, this is a dinner table, not Niki Minge's recording studio," I had to bite down on my tongue, hard to stop myself from laughing. I really hope she means Niki Minaj, not Minge.  
"Sorry Mom," I apologized quickly.  
"Besides," she started to say. "We don't want another war do we? Not after last time. I think we all learnt a very important lesson that day, don't swear," Mom pursed her lips, trying to make herself look all important and authentic. The look was quickly wiped off her face when Dad stumbled into the kitchen.

"Hey Dad," I greeted him through a mouthful of bacon and bread. I hope they serve this shit when I go to hell. Dad gave me a goofy grin as he swayed lightly on his feet. Surprise, surprise, drunk again. He was always going out and getting hammered lately."Wassup, Nigga's? I got fucking wasted last night. Woot! Woot!" I hung my head in shame at the disgraceful sight. God help me if I end up like that.

"Randy Marsh!" Mom almost shrieked at him. He blinked a little cluelessly.

"Yes dear, I think that's my name, but after all that fucking booze last night I-"  
"Would you all please STOP SWEARING! Gah! I swear I'll have to get the washing up liquid and wash all your dirty little mouths out with it at this rate!" She shook her head. I only smiled at her frustration. It was entertaining. I shoveled another bacon sandwich in my mouth. The phone rings, and everyone looks out to the corridor, then to each other.

"No way, I'm eating," I informed Mom before she had a chance to ask me. Instead, she quickly glanced over to Dad, who hiccuped, then giggled to himself. Mom grimaced, then settled her gaze on Shelly.

"Sweetheart, do us a favor and pick up the phone?" Mom asked. Shelly grunted stubbornly before standing up, a sour expression on her brace face. "Stupid turds..." muttering, she picked up the phone. "What?" she grumbled, clearly pissed off. "You mean turd face? No... no, no, NO! I meant the other turd. The one with a stupid green hat? Yep, nats turd alright... okay. I'll get him for you," She lowered the phone from her ear and covered the receiver with her hand. "S'for you turd," she held it out to me. I eyed it suspiciously before I leaned over and took it from her hand. The phone felt colder than I expected. I raised it to the side of my head. "Hello?"

"Hello Stanley," an over-friendly voice greeted me. "I'm Doctor Dorian at Sacred Park Hospital, and I have just had a young boy arrive an hour ago. He's just woken up, and his parents thought it would be good if you spoke with him. His name is Kyle Brov... Um, brofloska... No, no, let me try that again, erm, Kyle Br-Brof, no, Brolofski, I mean, well, oh banana fricking hammocks. Kyle B would like you to come by the hospital at some point if you can," he informed me. I nod slowly, my mouth partly open.

"Dude, it's Kyle Broflovski," I let him know. Just for future reference. The line went dead. I frowned. "Hello? H-hello?" No answer. I shrugged, then found myself wondering about Kyle. I felt worried, I mean, why the fuck is he in hospital? What the fuck happened?

"Mom, I'm going out," I snatched my jacket from the back of the chair I was sat on and pulled it on quickly. I also grabbed my favorite hat and shoved my feet into a pair of Converse on the way out the door. I put my hat on, my black hair peeped out from underneath like usual. Wendy says she thinks I look cute like this. It was still snowing, much heavier than earlier, and it was already way above ankle deep. I chewed my bottom lip then waded through the annoying white fluffy stuff toward the main street where the roads had already been cleared. It wasn't a particularly long walk, but the curiosity of what had happened to Kyle ate me up. I wasn't sure whether I should have been worried, scared or whatever for him. The Doctor on the phone seemed pretty optimistic, but they are paid to do that. It is their job, after all.

One I was surrounded by the familiar clean, bland white walls, I approached the main desk. "Hi, I'm Stan Marsh, uh, is there a Kyle Broflovski here?" I waited a moment for the receptionist or whatever she was to check through some files and paperwork. She lifted her gaze to me. "Room 34" I nodded with a slightly nervous smile. "Thanks." I wish Wendy was here with me. She should know what's going on With Kyle too.

Butterflies filled the pit of my stomach as I gently pushed open the door that led to the room my best friend could be dying in. I still didn't have any clue what was going on, and could only pray he was okay. I froze when I saw him. I was only a step into the room, Kyle hadn't noticed I had just came in.

His dim emerald eyes were staring at his hands, unfocused as if he wasn't really looking at anything. His usually fair pale skin was ruptured and corrupt with ugly blotching bruises that were dotted up and down the bare skin of his arms. Smaller, but more painful looking bruises covered his face. Dark purple smudging under his eyes made him look extremely tired and weary. His bottom lip was swollen and a much darker shade of red than usual. Small cuts were scattered all over him, irritated raw skin surrounding each one. I shook my head with a tiny movement in disbelief as I saw his arm all bandaged up in a big cast, a sling wrapped around his neck. His wild hair was untidy and a mess that had clearly not seen a comb lately.

I gulped, not sure of how to respond to the disgusting things that now covered his body. All I could feel was a dull hatred growing inside of me. Instantly I felt almost responsible in a way. Not directly, or remotely really, more as if I should do something about it. My head was screaming at me to kill whoever did this. Hunt them down and fucking kill them in the most painful way possible, but then I stopped. What was I doing? Jumping to conclusions straight away. For all I know, he slipped and fell down a hill.

I was too busy being shocked by Kyle's appearance to even notice that his parents were sat quietly in the corner, solemn expressions on their faces. I frowned, keeping my eyes on the red head.

"K-Kyle..." I tried to speak loudly but all I could manage was a weak, pitiful whimper. He heard me though, I saw the change in his eyes. But he didn't look up.

"Stan, it's... It's good to see you," Sheila gave me a small smile. My frown deepened. She was barely speaking above a whisper, yet this was the woman that started wars because she was so loud. It just felt strange. "We'll be outside if you need us," Gerald patted my pack lightly as he and his wife left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, I knew pure hatred flooded onto my face. I clenched my fists so hard I felt as if I could break a bone. They trembled violently, my knuckles turning an unnatural white.

"Who did this?" I hissed. My voice was quiet, but venom leaked off each word dangerously as I struggled to control myself. Kyle remained silent. He didn't even bat an eyelash. "Kyle, tell me who the fuck did this," my whole body was burning with something I couldn't quite identify. Was it hatred? Anger? I have no idea. "Kyle," I whispered his name slowly and stepped forward. I didn't care if it was falling down a hill that did that did this to him. I would still go and fucking blow it up.

My hand reached out and touched his shoulder gently. He flinched away and a strange glint of something I didn't quite recognize flashed across his eyes. Whatever it was, it was dark and made my insides freeze. Was he scared? I instantly drew my hand back. I couldn't help but feel hurt and unwanted. Even by my own super best friend. "Dude... Please," I tried to speak without letting my anger through. It was hard. "Talk to me," tears were prickling at my eyes, threatening to spill over. I blinked madly, trying to get rid of them. I couldn't tell if Kyle reacted or not to what I said. My vision was clouded and tearing up quickly.

I let out a shaky breath. He didn't reply. A thick lump was forming in my throat making it hard to swallow. I knew by now he wasn't going to talk to me. The most I could do was talk to him instead. "Okay," I began. My voice wasn't trembling quite as much. "I... I understand dude, I really do," I didn't. I had no idea what he had been through. But I tried to be reassuring nonetheless. "You're my best friend... My... My super best friend," tears were streaming down my face, burning my skin. "I care about you, dude." I shook my head slowly. "And I'm just... sorry. I-I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say," this was true. I wanted to scream that I would kill the motherfucker who did this. But I couldn't.

"I... I love you, Kyle."

He stiffened, his eyes suddenly coming into focus. I meant what I said so much. He's been my best friend since kindergarten, we've known each other our whole lives. It wasn't the same love I felt for Wendy. It was something that felt... more special. More important. "You've always been there for me. Looked after me when I was feeling shit. You've saved my relationship with Wendy so many times. I just... I just wish you would let me do the same for you," I looked up, blinking away the fresh tears than ran down my face. "So, dude... Please, please just talk to me," my voice broke. Silence. I didn't look at him. A few moments passed, and then he spoke.

"He raped me Stan,"

At that moment, I don't know exactly what happened. A bomb went off in my head, and I felt my insides turn to ice. I couldn't move, I felt paralyzed. When I tried to speak, no sound came out. Nothing but a tiny, barely audible whimper. It took a moment for me to pull myself together, but I still couldn't quite wrap my head around what I had just heard. I wanted to ask so many questions, do so many things. I wanted to scream, destroy everything in my path. I wanted to fucking kill someone. "Who?"

For a split second, I expected him to say Cartman. I was almost relieved when he didn't. "I don't know," his voice was small. I could barely hear what he said. I sat down in the chair beside his bed and looked at him. Rage bubbled up inside of me as his sad green eyes met mine. "I'll fucking kill him," I spat in a harsh whisper. I couldn't let someone get away with something so inhumane. It was fucking sick. "I swear, Kyle, I will fucking mu-" "Stan, it's okay," he insisted. My breathing hitched. How is it just 'okay'?

He was RAPED.

FUCKING RAPED.

Was he even bothered? Did he even care? How the fuck could he not want them dead? "What do you mean, okay? What the fuck is wrong with you!" He flinched at my words and my raised voice. I instantly wished I could take them back.

"I.. I don't know..." Something flashed across his eyes again. Like before, I couldn't recognize what it was. "I just.. I don't want anymore trouble," he was scared. Terrified. This made me angry.

"Well, when he's dead, there won't be any more fucking trouble,"

A/N Thanks for reading! Please leave a review down in the crotch!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sup fags. R&R or I will cut you're parents up into chili and make you fucking eat them.

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Chapter 4 - - Kenny's POV

I gulped, slightly nervous. I hated going down this stupid alley. Always so fucking dark and just plain creepy. But I had to. My body was craving desperately for my next fix. There was nothing I could really do about it. I nodded slightly to myself before walking forward. I silently prayed in my head that Bendy Brian would be here. He's the only decent dealer closest to where I live. I frowned when I couldn't find him anywhere. "Hello? Brian...?" I called his name and glanced around. It was too dark to see anything.

"Kenny," I heard a voice behind me and jumped.

"Shit!" I cursed under my breath and span around to face him. "You scared the fucking crap outta me!"

"Do you want your fix or not?" He grumbled. I frowned. He's usually much happier than this.

"Of course I do,"

"Well you better have the fucking money 'cos I need it. Some little asshole it all," yup, he was pissed of. I chewed my bottom lip. I only had enough for one happy pill, but I was hoping for two.

"I got it," I told him, deciding it was for the better if I didn't nag for a loan. I was already in dept.

"E?"

"I love the happy pills," I grinned and pulled twenty bucks out of my pocket. He gave me a small plastic bag and I exchanged it for the money.

"Pleasure doing business with you, kid. Now get the fuck outta here," I gave him a curt nod then left. I walked quickly, I hated being down here. It took me about forty minutes to reach Token's house, already loud music was blaring and disco lights were flashing all over the fucking place. I was about to go in and enjoy the fun, but I shook my head. I had to go find a certain someone first. Butters had promised me earlier that he would come to the party. It took a lot of bribing, but he eventually agreed.

Once I reached his house, I jumped up onto the doorstep, and rapped sharply. I didn't use the door bell out of habit. It took a few moments, but the door finally flew open after I heard a series of clicks as if someone were unlocking it. Steven, Butters' Dad stood before me. Fucking hell, he's way taller than I remembered him being. "Is Butters there?" I asked. I got a short grunt in reply. He reached into his pocket before he pulled out a small notebook. His eyes scanned through it rapidly, twitching left and right before they suddenly stopped.

"Um... he's grounded," No fucking surprise there. "Oh, wait," he mumbled. "No, that was Tuesday. Come on in..." Hesitantly, he moved out of the way to let me past. I walked in and, got a disturbingly good look at his ass. Not nice at all. Nothing like his Son's. Butters' definitely had him mother's ass. Incredibly cute and pinchable. I trailed up the stairs, assuming that he was in is room. He usually is, being grounded most of the fucking time. Suddenly, and totally out of no where, a very vivid image of Butters' naked, covered in tomato ketchup popped into my head. That had happened an awful lot lately. Sure Butters is adorable and has a surprisingly steaming hit body, but ketchup? Really? I fucking hate the stuff. Mom won a competition a while back and got a months free supply of ketchup. We had a bowl of it for every meal for four weeks. That stuff is fucking vile. I hate it with a passion. I would rather suck Cartman's sweaty balls that touch that stuff now.

I paused for a moment before slowly opening Butters' bedroom door. I don't bother to knock. I come around here quite a lot, whether it was this way, or by sneaking through his window it didn't matter. Me and Butters are best friends, we have been since sixth grade. Sure I'm still best friends with Kyle, Stan and sort of Cartman, but Butters is my bestest best friend. Sort of like a super best friendship as Kyle and Stan call their relationship, but without all the intense bromance.

His room was spotless and clean as usual. Not a single speck of dust was out of place. Fuck knows how people keep their rooms this tidy, mine is a complete shit tip, it's practically knee deep in all sorts of horrible crap. The only thing out of place was an opened book laid on the floor beside his bed. Butters was curled up, holding a small teddy close to his chest, his blanket ruffled all around him. His face was peaceful and content, his eyelids closed lightly. He looked so young and child like. I smiled. His incredibly fluffy blonde hair was ruffled and stuck up wildly all over the place. I love it when his hair is scruffy, he looks cute. All of these innocent thoughts didn't stop me from having dirty, perverted thoughts though. I just wanted to feel his soft skin beneath my fingertips, his lips on mine.

Hell, I would gladly fuck him while he slept. If he woke up, well I'd run for the hills. I know it's wrong to fantasize about having sex with my best friend, but he is irresistible There was some kind of magnetic pull that drew me to him. I've never felt like this for anybody. I've felt strong attractions to other people, mainly girls with steaming hot bodies, but Butters? It's almost as if he defies logic, but hey, this is South Park. I shouldn't be attracted to some one so sweet and innocent. I can barely imagine Butters making out with some one, let alone have the hard core sex I'm used to. To be honest, I doubt he even jack's of. Actually, has he even had an orgasm before? As I marveled whether or not it was possible to have never experienced a climax, I didn't notice Butters stirring on the bed.

"Gah!" He exclaimed in shock. I grinned pervertedly. "K-Kenny! Wh-What are you doing here?"  
"Well, I was going to make sweet, sweet love to you while you slept," I winked and moved forward as Butters shot up in his bed.  
"Aw, well, gee Kenny, um... I" He stammered, clearly shocked by my words. Oh, Butters...  
I grinned at his awkward stuttering. So cute.  
I moved closer to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, lifting my right knee onto the bed. Our noses were nearly toching and his eyes darted about, trying to avoid my gaze. I leaned into the side of his face and licked his ear lobe. He squirmed.  
"I want to touch you," I murmured flirtatiously into his ear. His blonde hair tickled my cheek. "I want to feel you, rub my hands across your naked body. I want to cover you in ketchup and lick up every last drop,"  
Okay, so that last bit was a little gross, but I loved to make him uncomfortable.  
"Well, gee Kenny. That's awful thoughtful of you but..."  
I chuckled at his reply and stroked the back of his neck.  
"Then I want to have your lips on mine, your hot breath against my throat," his big blue eyes stared into mine. My heart rate sped up. "I want to fuck you hard and good. I want to hear you scream in pleasure," Butters gulped nervously and squirmed again.  
"Th-thanks Kenny... But I-I'm only thirteen," bless. He actually took me seriously. It was so fucking cute.  
"Well I'm only fourteen. Wait... Dude!" Are you trying to call me a slut?" I jumped away from him, feigning hurt on my face. Fuck it. I already knew I was a slut. I can't even remember the name of that hot girl who came to mine last night. Who cares though? It's not like she was anything special.  
It's not like she was Butters.

"No! No! Of course not! I-I would n-never think that!" He insisted and sprung to his feet. He was only an inch or so shorter than me.  
"Really? I asked. He nodded vigorously. He was frowning. His eyebrows knotted together as his eyes bored into mine. He's kinda hot when he does that.  
"I would never say anything bad about my best friend," as soon as he said that, he suddenly looked worried and as if he could take it back.  
"Aw! You are so sweet! I could just fuck you!" I was being totally serious. Butters blushed a scarlet red.

"Can I... Kiss you?"

Now that was something I was not expecting. For one of the first times ever, my heart actually skipped a beat because of someone hitting on me. I liked it. My eyes fluttered shut and I leaned toward him, breathing his heavenly scent in hungrily. I felt our lips collide and something inside of me exploded, like some kind of bomb. Fuck, that's new. My chest was aching and I found myself desperate for more as I began kissing him slowly. His lips were soft and tender, firm but gentle. He was a surprisingly good kisser. But that's Butters. Always full of surprises He kissed me back and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth. My hands found themselves slowly creeping up his back. When they met his head my fingers twisted into his hair. He put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer, filling in the tiny gap between us.

"Uh... dude? Kenny? Butters? What... the fuck?" I heard a familiar voice and pushed Butters away gently. I looked up to see Stan in the doorway, staring at us in confusion. He looked angry, pissed off and worried all at the same time. There was an awkward silence were nobody spoke for a few minutes, but then Butters said something.  
"Banana hammock!" He exclaimed. Me and Stan gave him a worried look.  
"I'm not even gonna ask..." Stan mumbled, then his eyes met mine. There was something strange stirring in them. It was kinda intimidating.  
"What are you doing here?" I asked the most obvious question.  
"Dude, we need to talk. Now," Stan's determined straight forward tone told me something was wrong.  
"Why? What's happened?" I moved away from Butters who was a bright red, and stepped toward the raven haired boy.  
"Not here," he said, looking at Butters.  
"Okay..." I said, and turned around. "We'll finish this later," I winked at Butters who went even more red.  
"Um.. B-bye K-kenny," Butters gulped and I nodded.  
"Let's go," I muttered to Stan.

We left the house quickly, gaining a few weird looks from Butters' parents. Once we were at the end of the drive, Stan grabbed my arm. We stopped. I turned to face him.  
"What the fuck's going on then?" I asked, slightly grouchy that he interrupted my make-out session. It was just getting hot too...  
"It's Kyle,"  
"What do you mean, 'It's Kyle'? Dude, there is always something wrong with him,"  
"I just got back from the hospital,"  
I suddenly turned silent. I waited for him to carry on. "Dude he was... he was raped..."  
I felt my lip twitch. This was a joke right? Fucking hell! How do people do that? Say something so... horrible, a completely serious look on their face, and not find the urge to laugh? My lip twitched again, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. I'm not sure if it was the completely fucking serious look on Stan's face, or what he said that cracked me up, but I simply couldn't stop myself from laughing.  
"Dude! Don't do that! How would you feel if he actually did get raped?" I asked through a fit of giggles.

"He did, Kenny."

"Don't fuck with me!" I kept laughing. It was only when I saw the sadness in his eyes did I manage to stop. "You're fucking joking," my voice went dull, bland. Stan shook his head. I could actually see tears forming in his eyes. "Oh my God..." I murmured knowing he wasn't kidding around. "Is he okay?" My voice quickly turned panicked.  
"I don't think so. He will barely talk to me," Stan gulped, and blinked, trying to fight off the tears.  
"Holy shit, dude..." I didn't know what to say. Instead, I just pulled Stan into a hug. He nestled his face into my shoulder. His whole body shook as he began sobbing.  
"I don't know what to do... I just... I don't know, Kenny. What should I do?" His voice was muffled as he mumbled into my parka. I could feel his tears soaking through the material.

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A/N: Thankyou amazing people for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: hey guys! I would just like to say, thank you for all the support, and actually reading this crap! Honestly I don't even see why you put up with reading it. Anyways, R&R&ENJOY!

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Chapter 5 - - Cartman POV

It was a week or so before Kyle came back to school. Stan also had a couple of days off too. Probably so the could fag out while they had the fucking chance. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised. Kenny was the only person I really talked to while they were gone. When I asked him where they were (acting completely oblivious to the fact I saw everything), he told me Kyle had slipped and fell down a hill. What a load of unbelievable fucking bullshit. But I didn't say anything. I it for when Kyle got back instead. I was certainly looking forward to it to say the least, so when Kenny told me he would be back on Wednesday, I grinned with excitement. The poor bastard seemed a little confused at my happiness for the Jew coming back. He must have thought I actually cared about the annoying little Jew.

When Stan came back to school, he was acting like a hormonal teenage girl on her period. He wouldn't say a word to me, and I was pretty damn sure Kyle had told him everything. The most I could do was give him creepy smiles whenever we saw each other.

Kyle was defiantly the talk of the school that week. Theories of what happened were flying out all over the place wildly I was a little disappointed when nobody said anything about rape. I still found it fucking hilarious though. Some of the shit people in South Park come up with is just... wow. So fucked up. But that's a story for another day. Stan got really pissy about the whole thing. Every time he heard someone say something about Kyle, good or bad, he would start raging at them, full on screaming. He was a little over protective and emotional over the red headed Jew. Always getting into fights over it and shouting at people over the smallest things. It was priceless. I nearly pissed myself laughing every time he got himself kicked out of class. Especially when he started crying. Because of all that, it was no surprise that the rumors started spreading.

Half the school quickly became obsessed with the idea of Stan and Kyle being gay for each other. Obviously, I joined in with this. Wendy got pretty pissed off though, and tried to get back together with him. Apparently her ex-boyfriend being gay wasn't good for her image. When Stan rejected her, even more people believed the whole homosexual crap. I can certainly see their points though. Wendy Testaburger, despite being a total bitch and a whore, is the hottest girl I know. Don't get me wrong, I hate that slut.

The first time I saw Kyle was Wednesday lunch. His right arm was in a heavy looking cast that was covered with girls signatures and get well soon messages. His other hand also in a bandage. I briefly wondered how the heck he was supposed to write, but didn't dwell for too long on the thought. He looked tired and thin as if he hadn't been eating or getting much sleep either. I hoped he was being plagued with nightmares of what happened last night. He was covered in bruises and scratches, but they were all healing pretty quickly. The thing I found really funny was how he walked. He sort of hopped and limped at the same time. I guess his ass wasn't in particually god shape either.

It was completely silent at the lunch table when he sat down. He was beside Stan who kept giving him worried, and concerned glances. Fucking fags. Butters had somehow managed to get himself adopted onto our table, and was all cuddled up next to Kenny who kept stroking his leg under the table. Creep. Kyle kept shifting his weight uncomfortably, wincing every time he moved. "Sup Kahl?" I asked him with a smile. "Did Stan fuck you in the butt a little too hard last night?"

He gave me a really nasty, ice cold glare that screamed at me to shut the fuck up. I grinned. "Oh... I see," I mumbled. "You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"Told him what, fatass?" He hissed venomously. Everyone on the table was staring at us.

"That you've been cheating on him, Kahl," I could tell he and Stan were both getting really pissed off. Kenny and Butters tried to ignore us, and went head to carry out their own quiet conversation. "I saw you. I saw everything. I can't believe you could be such a little slut Kahl. Was Stan's ass not good enough for your royal penis?"

He remained silent.

"Shut up, Cartman," Stan spat at me.

"Oh, Stan. You're just jealous that he let someone else other than yourself fuck him,"

"I said, shut the fuck up,"

"Why? Can't you bear to hear the awful truth? I know that it's upsetting, but sadly, it-"

"SHUT UP!" Stan screamed, jumping out of his seat dramatically. He smashed his hands down on the table making all of the plates clatter. Kyle remained silent, staring at his untouched food with lifeless, empty eyes. "You fucking bastard..." He hissed. Everyone in the cafeteria was staring at us. "You don't know anything Cartman! ANYTHING! How could you be so fucking cruel? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" His voice echoed all around the silent room. Well, he sure knows how to get everyone's attention alright.

"Stan, please," Kyle's small voice pleaded. Stan ignored him and glared down at me.

"Yeah, Stan. Please?" I mimicked Jew boys voice mockingly.

"No! I'm sick of it! You've gone too far this time! I'm fucking sick of it! I'm sick of the way you treat everyone! ...I'm sick of the way he treats you, Kyle..." His voice broke and sounded thick. He was about to cry. Again.

"Please don't do this Stan. I don't want you in anymore trouble than you're already in," the red head pawed at Stan's arm with his better hand trying to get him to sit down.

"I don't care how much fucking trouble I get in!" Stan launched himself toward me, his arms outstretched. As soon as he collides with me, I'm sent flying off my seat and tumbling to the ground. I feel his hands wrap around my throat but everything is a wild blur, I couldn't tell exactly what was going on. I began spluttering as I struggled to breath, and clawed pathetically at his firm, strong hands. Giving up on prising him off me, I sent a fist flying to his face which was looming directly over me. Punching him felt surprisingly satisfying. My top lip curled up into a snarl. He lost his grip on my throat and I push him off of me while he's vulnerable. I dive onto him, pinning him to the ground and send another fist pummeling into his nose. Blood started to trickle down his face, and was smudged all over my knuckles.

"Shit..." He cursed under his breath. I grunted in reply and grabbed his hair through his stupid blue hat. I yanked up and he let out a pained cry. I shoved down with all my force and smashed the back of his head into the cold, hard floor beneath us. "Fuck! Get of me you freak!"

I crashed his head down on the floor once again. I heard a crack. I was just about to finish him off when I suddenly felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and tug me away from the bitchy raven haired boy on the floor.

"Ay! Get offa me! Fuck off!"I shook whoever was on me off, and whirled around. It was Kenny. "What the fuck was that for?"

"You could have fucking killed him!" Kenny roared at me.

"So fucking what? He would have killed me if he had the fucking chance!" I was really angry. I had to use every bit of my will power to not turn around and smash Stan's face in with my foot.

"Holy shit, dude..." Stan groaned, rubbing his head as he struggled to sit up.

"Stan!" Kyle cried out and was instantly at his side. I spat down at the two fags.

"CARTMAN! MARSH" Everyone looked up to see Mrs Banks snarling viciously, glaring relentlessly at me, and then Stan. Oh, for fucks sake...

* * *

We both ended up sitting in some stuffy little office, waiting for someone to come speak to us. We didn't say anything the first ten minutes, but the uncomfortable silence must have been too much for a little pussy like Stan. "I fucking hate you right now," he said.

"I fucking hate you all of the time," I smiled sweetly at him. I wasn't bothered how much trouble I was going to get into for what I did. It was worth it. I wasn't bothered if I hurt Stan or not, but I saw the pain on Kyle's face as I beat up his best friend. That was all I needed.

"Why?" Stan's question was a little unexpected. I frowned, chewing my bottom lip as I thought about it.

"Because you're a fag," I came to a conclusion.

"No, no..." Stan shook his head. "Why do you act like this? Why are you so... evil?" This made me laugh.

"Why not?" I asked. Stan frowned.

"Every one hates you because of it,"

"Then why do you call yourself one of my best friends?" I mused, leaning over to him slightly. His frown deepened.

"Fuck knows..." He mumbled, not denying it. It was a mystery to me to. I had no fucking clue why I have the friends I do, I treat them like shit, but it's almost as if they are okay with it. Maybe that's why I do it. I guess it's just fun. The door opened behind us. I craned my neck around to see who it was.

What the...?

What the fuck?

"Hello children, I'm going to be your new school counseller from now on, Mr Hand? Say hello,"

That voice.

That man, no, woman...

No... No... This can't be happening. Thousands of crazy memories came flooding into my head. Me taking a crap on his desk. Me showing the whole class a giant picture of Butters sucking me off. Me telling him to suck my balls. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?

"Oh! Hey there Eric! Stanley! I didn't expect you two to be here,"

Ah, fuck. He remembers us.

"M-Mr Garrison...?" Stan stammered, eyes wide, terrified of our former Elementary school teacher.

"Actually, it's Mrs, I mean, I just got married!" Mr/Mrs Garrison exclaimed in glee, holding up his left hand. A diamond ring glimmered at us.

"And who the fuck would marry you?" I exclaimed.

"Eric! The F word is banned in this room," he exclaimed. I rolled my eyes.

"Fuck you, you fucking freak," he gawked at my language. I got out of my seat. "Screw you gahs, I'm going home," with a heavy sigh, I left. I honestly could not be bothered with that trannie right now. He just annoys me. Too many bad memories. And I still have to get him back for nearly executing Terrance and Philip when I was nine. That really pissed me off. Once I got out into the corridor, I saw Kyle, stood leaning against a locker. I smiled.

"Sup fag,"

* * *

A/N: Hey gahs! I know it was a little short, and don't ask about Mr/Mrs Garrison. I don't know how the fuck sklee even got in there.

Thankies for reading!

Drop a review down in the crotch? Maybe? Please?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hey gahs! So last night, I was watching south park, and tried doing voice impressions of the characters, they all pretty much failed but OMG when I did Butters it was so perfect it nearly made me cry! Yes, I am sad and watch too much south park, but I don't care. Best TV show in the world, and watching it right now as I do this chappie. BTW, at first I was planning on having each of the boys POV's in order each chapter, but I think I'm gonna stick to mainly Kyle's. There will be Cartman too, but only a little bit from Kenny and Stan.

I have to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone has reviewed, I mean seriously, I was really down because I didn't think anyone cared about this story, but when I woke up this morning and saw I had loads more, I was practically jumping for joy! I had to just go ahead and write the next chappie straight away to show my thanks for all the support! I mean, seriouslah! You gahs are the best! xD

Read and review gahs!

* * *

Chapter 6 - - Kyle POV

"Sup fag,"

I felt my insides freeze when I saw him. I shouldn't be so scared of this asshole but I am. "What do you want?" I hissed, not meeting his eyes.

"I want to say sorry for what happened last week," he said sincerely. I almost laughed. The word sorry sounds foreign coming from his mouth.

"So now you're going to make even more fun out of me by pretending to care?"

There it was again; that flash in Cartman's eyes that told me if I didn't shut up soon, something very, very bad would happen and I'd end up in far worse trouble than I'd started out in. The trouble was, that day couldn't possibly get any worse – or so I had thought. Apparently, Cartman's indifference would hurt far more than I'd initially thought. I don't know how he can be so heartless. What happened was serious, yet he found joy in tormenting me about it. I could barely believe that I actually thought there could have been a slight chance Cartman would do the right thing in that alley. As usual, I thought wrong.

I saw him take a millisecond to keep his temper in check, it wasn't often that he, my tormentor, actually took time to think about what it was that I said. I prepared myself to just shake my head and tell him to forget it, when he, sarcasm rolling off of his recently sharpened tongue, said,

"No, I'm… I'm really trying."

Well, that was it, wasn't it? I had tried, for years, to be everything he could have wanted from me, done everything he could've needed – let's face it, I would've probably halfway killed myself just to make him feel even the slightest bit proud of me. And now, in one of my darkest moments, he was laughing at me. Mocking me. Don't get me wrong, Cartman never made life particularly easy, but at that moment, all I could think of was how much I hated him. He's never been there for me with anything. Not like Stan, he was always there. No matter what, he would always be there to care about me. But Cartman... I have no fucking clue why I try impress that asshole.

And hating him only made the aching inside of me hurt all that more.

I let my eyes flutter shut eyes for a second, to prepare myself for what I was about to do. It wasn't like I could stop myself – but I wanted to prepare for it just the same. I opened my mouth and that… that is where it all began. "You know what, Cartman? I am sick of playing these games, I'm sick of you!"

I balled up my better hand into a fist, and thrust it out, smashing it straight into his smug little face. It wasn't a particually hard punch, not enough to make him really feel anything. My wrist was too weak to accomplish that, and I had to grit my teeth afterwards against the pain that splintered up my whole arm. I should have been shitting bricks after that. I've hit Cartman before, but it always came around to smack me right int the face. It never ended well. The scariest part was the creepy dangerous smile that slipped onto his lips.

"Kahl," his voice was low, almost a growl. The smile was still there. "Don't punch me,"

"Why not? You hit Stan,"

And so cue second punch, a little harder than the first. I ignored the pain in my sprained wrist. The smile fell from his lips. I tried to blank out the small voice in the back of my head screaming at me to stop, but I was enjoying this new sense of power, even if I knew it would end in tears, namely my own. I had to savor the moment before he was back in control.

"Kahl. I mean it. Don't fucking punch me," that faint smile was definatly gone by now, and he was looking at me with his eyes very slightly narrowed. His voice turned cold and angry how it usually is when I piss him off.

"What, like this?" Cue PUNCH; the hardest of all. Worst part of it being that I kept my eyes looking directly into his as I did it, which meant I could hardly fail to notice the flash of a challenge that leaped into them. For a second, I saw a tiny smile appear on his face, almost as if he were considering me. But what was there to consider?

I was practically shitting shitting myself at that little smile, because I knew this was most likely going to be the end of at least one of my limbs. All that filled me now was a cold fear that didn't taste too great in the back of my throat. I swallowed hard, finding it impossible to tear my gaze away from his icy dark one.

I didn't have time to think; within seconds, there was a blur of his red coat as I felt myself winded, strong arms throwing me up against the lockers behind me. My head smashed hard against the cold metal. I could feel the iciness of it through my jacket, but it was nothing compared to the terror that was spreading through me. My whole body was aching, and having his pressed up against mine only intensified the pain. I slumped slightly against the locker and looked up. My eyes were parallel to Cartman's as his surprisingly strong forearm blocked me from moving.

The wild anger in his eyes... without any kind of warning it sent a jolt of electricity through my body. I tried to move, but I was still recovering and could only struggle weakly. In response to my pathetic escape attempt, the forearm thew me back. My head cracked against the locker again.

He sure was enjoying giving people head injuries today.

I made a noise of pain, trying to lift my good hand to touch where it hurt, but the pissed off brunette ensured that I couldn't move.

I was officially stuck.

Deja vu flooded to me as unwanted memories of being trapped crept into my head. I began to panic, my breathing escalating and my heart rate speeding up rapidly.

"Look, Eric, I-"

"Shut it Jew boy," he interrupted, pushing harder against my chest. I winced, my cracked rib ached at the excessive amount of force he used. "Or I swear, I will make you scream so loud you're little gay friend will have to come save you,"

I instantly shut my mouth. He was obviously referring to Stan. I didn't really know what to do. Usually I would just tell him to fuck off and then I would leave, but that didn't seem like a possibility anymore.

"You better consider yourself fucking lucky, I can't really be bothered with you today," He informed me in a low voice as he removed his arm- but replaced it with the weight of his body, which trust me, there was a lot of. His chest leaned into mine, pressed up right against it. He shifted lightly and we didn't break eye contact for even a split second.

"What... what the fuck are you doing, fatass?" My voice was a small squeak. My eyes darted about, looking for some kind of weapon. But it was useless. I couldn't really do anything to defend myself in this state anyway.

"Well, Kahl," he began. "I don't really know. I mean, there are plenty of options here- dismemberment. Making you suck my balls. Again, I know much you liked that the first time, or I could cut off that pathetic pubic hair you've been waiting so long for to grow... oh, what to do... what to do..."

"Eric, you're hurting me," I gasped, unsure of why I was using his first name. He was crushing my broken arm and well, it felt like fucking Hell.

"Don't be such a pussy Kahl. Can't you take a little rough handling? I mean, yes, I could be very, very generous and let you move freely about the room as I decide what your punishment will be, but let's face it Kahl. There's no fun in that for either of us-"

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block him out. I was in serious pain and couldn't do anything about it. Then there was the fact that he didn't care how I felt. I'm not sure if that hurt more or not.

Somehow, right them, I found myself thinking of Stan. I'm not particually sure why, but I did. All I could think about was what he said the first night that he came to the hospital.

"I... love you,"

I'm not sure what happened inside of me when those three words tumbled out of his mouth. It felt as if my heart shattered into a billion minuscule pieces. I know he didn't mean the kind of love that I felt for him, he just meant best friend love. He cared about me. That's all. And I guess because I heard the three words I've craved for him to say ever since I realized I was gay for him, I'm heart broken. I've always known I never stood a chance with Stan. He's straight. He's in love with Wendy. He would never give that up.

Fate is cruel.

Making me fall in love with the one person who could never acknowledge my existence in a sexual way, the only person I could stand less of a chance with was Eric Cartman.

Who was currently pushing me up against a locker, running through all the terrible things he could do to make me pay.

So I imagined he was Stan.

His touch would be gentle and caring, not downright trying to make me feel as much pain as possible. He would stroke my cheek softly, whisper my name in my ear. His lips on mine would be heaven as we molded into one. We'd melt into each others embraces, and I would be able to feel his rapid heart beat pang against mine. I'd rake my fingers through his luscious, soft raven hair, and place kisses all along his jaw and throat. I'd suckle on his skin gently, marking hims as my own.

"-And holy shit Kahl! What the fuck do you think you'r doing!?"

...Oh fuck...

The awkward, and incredibly painful situation had certainly taken a turn for the worse thanks to my little day dream about Stan. Without realizing what I was doing, my hips had thrust themselves forward slightly, and in doing so, had just about pushed against his own, well... area

The only difference was of course, I had been fantasizing about the guy I've been in love with for nearly two years now, whereas Cartman hadn't. The only difference being I was now pressing my erection up against his groin.

Shit. Fuck. Wanker. Crap!

My fucking erection was pressed up against Eric Cartman's groin!

Shit. Fuck. Wanker. Crap!

My terrified eyes traveled slowly down, pulling away from his hypnotic stare to below our navels, and rested there in utter shock. I stared, open-mouthed, gawking for a second before my gaze flew back to his and I shook my head vigorously.

"No! Fuck.,.. I, it's... shit! It's not what it looks like!"

"It better not be Kahl. Because if you don't explain yourself in five seconds, only one of us is going home alive tonight," His dark eyes penetrated mine like splinters, icier and more dangerous than ever before. I gulped, still trying to ignore the bone splitting pain ripping through my whole body.

"Uh... it's my medication."

The excuse that came out of my mouth was a pathetic one to say the least, but there was nothing I could do to take it back. Cartman was looking at me with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head, making the yellow bobbly bit on his hat wobble left and right. For a split second, I didn't think he was going to say anything, that he would let me go be on my own to be embarrassed by myself. But just as this welcome thought materialized in my head, Cartman grinned.

Oh yeah. I can't forget this is Eric Cartman I'm dealing with.

"And there was me thinking that little Kahl actually had a penis that could erect like any other normal gahs, And I have to admit it Kahl, if that were the case, I wouldn't blame you one bit. I mean, look at me! Seriouslah, look at me! I am undeniably sexy and devishly handsome I am, as steaming hot as it gets! So Kahl. If it;s time for confessions of a teenage drama queen on her fucking period, I suggest you get it over and done with right now."

I blinked. What the fuck was he talking about? Did he actually think I was turned on because of him?

I shook my head wil

* * *

dly, gaining a throbbing head ache as I did so.

"Are you sure about that Kahl? Because you seem a little over-excited right now,"

I shifted, starting to feel frustrated and angry once again. Why did he have to mock me about every single thing? Granted, this wasn't exactly a normal occurrence, but did he have to be such an asshole about it? I wasn't the one practically mounted on top of my protégée here. "Can you please get the fuck off me?"

He grinned. It scared me a little. "Why? Come on Kahl, give me one good reason and I might just put you out of your misery."

I shifted my weight again, trying to get my erection away from him.

"Because you're making me uncomfortable, fatass, now get the fuck off me,"

"Well that's obvious, Kahl," he replied, moving his arm away from my chest and crossing both of his arms, muscles now straining against his t-shirt. "Every time you move it makes it even clearer to me. Can't you stop squirming already?"

I instantly froze, not moving an inched. I barley dared to breathe.

"Now that's much better. So, what are we going to do about this little situation?"

Does he really think that I am attracted to him?

"Well, if you would just fuck off-"

"I think it's you who needs to fuck off, kahl," he smiled at his crappy sex joke.

"Stop it! Fucking asshole!"

"Oh, you do want my asshole right now, don't you?"

"Fuck off!"

He suddenly slapped the palms off his hands against either side of my head with a loud bang. His nose was nearly touching mine, and my breathing came ragged and shallow at the unexpected action.

"You better not let that happen again, Kahl," he pushed himself away from me and strutted down the corridor. I was left, completely shell shocked.

I couldn't get him off my mind. Had he just tried to make me aroused? Or was it all just in my head? What the fuck just happened?

Now what happened last week wasn't the only thing on my mind.

* * *

A/N: Ohhh! first slice of kyman!

Leave a review down in the crotch!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay. I am a horrible person for writing this chapter. I don't know if I should keep it or not at all. It would fit with the plot line much better, but I don't know if it actually works. If you gahs don't like this chapter, I will totally understand, and I will take it down and do something else. I wrote this a long time a go, and thought that maybe it could go with this fic. So, it's up to you gahs whether or not you want me to keep this. There is some Style, and if you want this chapter to stay up, I can safely say that there will definatly not be any more after this. Take that as a hint as to what happens.

BTW this is important. This chapter is set a couple of weeks after the incident with Cartman in the hallway.

Chapter Seven - - - KYLE POV - - -

"You're... proposing to Wendy...?" I gaped at him, my jaw dropping in utter disbelief. He gave me a sloppy grin in return. I honestly couldn't believe what I had just heard. Was I dreaming? Stan would never... he's just too young. Sure he's in love with Wendy and everything, but fourteen! four fucking teen!

I saw that sparkle in his eyes once again as he nodded. A very familiar pang of jealously hit me square in the gut and I had to force a smile to hide it. If Stan found out how I really felt about him, he would never talk to me again... I could never let that happen. Our friendship was more important that this stupid little crush I had on him.

"Wow, dude," I murmured To be honest, I never thought Stan would be the kind of guy who would want marriage and all the shit that comes along with it so early. Wouldn't it be better, and safer if he played the field a little more? With something so big and important, surely he should try be more careful about what he's getting tied down to. Other than Wendy, he hasn't really dated anyone properly. On the other hand though, his fiancee to be has been with far too many guys for me to list. It's pretty obvious that Stan would expect to have sex with Wendy after they are officially together, which is the most likely reason I can see why he is doing this. I guess it also shows that he has an awful lot of respect for her too. I know that should be a good think, but I can't seem to shake off that horrible feeling this will lead to something bad.

"I know, I know... it's all happening so fast but I've wanted this for so long and..." he pauses and something hazy crossed in his eyes. "I'm in love with her, dude. Besides, it's not like it's gonna happen for a while yet. I just want to see what she thinks really,"

Once again, cue the sickening jealousy stirring in the pit of my stomach. Trust me, I hated it. And what I hated even more was the fact I hated them being together. I know I should be happy for them, and I would be if I weren't already in love with the groom himself. I keep telling myself that what I am feeling is just a little crush, a phase, something that will just go away if I ignore it, but I can't. Because I know that it is something so much more than that. Being only fourteen and also considering I have never even been in a serious relationship before, I guess you could say that I don't even know what love is. But that warm rush that floods through my body every time I see him, that amazing, yet painful feeling I get whenever he calls me his super best friend, the butterflies that flutter in my stomach... I could go on, talk about how my heart pounds so hard it hurts every time he says my name, the way his breath feels on my neck when he pulls me into a hug, how his soft raven black hair tickles my cheek and how much I love it but... What point is there?

And that's what hurts.

It's painful to think that I will never be able to tell him how I feel, bit I should already feel grateful he considers me as his best friend.

"Fuck Stan... Don't get all soppy on me, it's gross," I grimaced away from him, pulling a face. I was a hypocrite for saying that, but I didn't care. Lately, all that had been in my fucked up head, were thoughts of how much I loved everything about him. I fucking hate it, but there is nothing there is that I can do about it. These feelings for him are there, and they are certainly not willing to go. Especially after what he said to me in the hospital. I know what he said wasn't what it sounded like, but I can't stop thinking about it nonetheless.

"You don't mean that, Kyle. I know you're happy for me inside," his grin widened as he leaned over me to grab the game sphere controller. I held my breath, not daring to take in any of his heavenly scent. What he had just said made my chest ache with sadness. I felt awful to know that his words were not true.

"Game sphere? I just got the new smash brothers game last week," he sat back up and raised an eyebrow at me. I faked another smile. I know all this crap with him putting on this nice 'let's not talk about what happened and focus on the positive side of life' act was just to make me feel better. He hasn't said a thing about it since he got into that fight with Eric, and every time I try bring it up, he gets really pissed off and starts shouting and stuff. Over the last two weeks, I've leart not to say anything about it, but that doesn't mean I can't stop thinking about what happened.

"Sure, as long as I get dibs on Meta knight " he passed me the other controller. The cold plastic felt surprisingly icy beneath my warm palms. I hadn't noticed how much I had been sweating. Was I feeling nervous around Stan? There were so many confusing emotions inside of me I couldn't even tell.

"Meta knight is fucking shit dude, I'm being Kirby," Stan retorted with a grunt, loading up the game.

"Seriously? Kirby? Meta will kick your stupid pink ass" I was barely processing what was coming out of my mouth. All I could think about was whether or not I should object to Stan's insane plan to get married. I noticed how quick he was to go off the subject too, almost as if he didn't want to talk about it.

I was distracted and frankly, not very enthusiastic about the game. I let out a sigh as my character was blasted into the sky and Stan was declared as winner. I suddenly felt a rush of hate toward that stupid pink blob dancing around on the screen. It pissed me off. Usually, playing smash brothers is a heated passion of mine, but my head was already occupied with too many things to even give a crap. It was as if Stan giving his life away to Wendy was the only thing that mattered in the world.

"HA! I fucking owned you, dude!" He exclaimed in glee, thrusting his fist into the air triumphantly.

"No need to fucking gloat, Jesus Christ Stan..." I grumbled, slightly annoyed. Stan frowned at my sudden pissieness.

"Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, quick to apologize. The smug grin on his face was long gone by now. "It's just a fucking game..." he muttered to himself, but I still heard. My eyebrow twitched.

"It's nothing to do with the stupid fucking game!" I yelled, irritated. Stan flinched back, obviously stunned at my sudden outburst.

"Woa, chill! Fucking hell," Stan threw his arms back in surrender. I let out a huff. "What the fuck is stuck up your ass?" I flinched at his choice of words. He didn't seem to notice what he had just said.

"Nothing! Nothing, just let's play some more Smash Brothers..." I quickly tried to change the subject and picked up my controller. Stan's hands quickly found mine and snatched it away before I had a chance to select 'retry'.

"Bullshit, dude!" He threw it down onto the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Stan, it's nothing," I lied through clenched teeth. I avoided his gaze, but he lifted my chin up and forced me to stare into his eyes. Oh fuck... those eyes...

"Don't fuck with me. Spit it out, right now or I'll fucking kiss you," his eyes had a scary determination in them, and I found myself too lost in those bright blue orbs to even notice what he had just said.

"Fine," he said. "Ignore me. But you were warned."

The next thing he did was the last thing I would ever expect to happen in my whole life. His lips pressed up against mine and my eyes widened in shock, glaring into his own which looked extremely pissed off. My mind blanked. I suddenly went numb, not a single muscle in my body would work. This was... this was what I had always dreamed of, wasn't it? If so, then why did it feel so wrong...? I was tempted to let my eyes flutter and melt into him, but my body was tense, rigged, not daring to move. What had happened? Why did he suddenly just throw himself onto me?

"D-dude...?" I murmured from beneath his lips. He pulled away slowly, his eyes still boring into mine.

"I told you. Now tell me what the fuck is wrong with you, or I'll do that again,"

Oh my... he had no fucking clue did he? I was dying to throw myself at him, but I had to muster up every ounce of strength I had inside of me to restrain myself. What he had just done... it had practically ripped a hole in my heart.

"Fuck, S-Stan..." Tears were welling up in my eyes and I had no fucking clue why. A lump had already raised in my throat making it hard to talk without my voice sounding thick and tearful.

"Kyle. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I-I..." I couldn't speak.

"Dude, hello...?" He tapped his finger against my temple. I could feel anger bubbling up inside of me, threatening to explode. Was he doing this on purpose? Teasing me to make me feel even worse than I already do? How could he...?

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Jesus, dude, seriously," he looked pissed off, yet the glare he was giving me was full of concern.

"YOU!" I cried out, surprising Stan, but shockingly enough, myself even more.

"What? Dude? Me... huh?" He looked fucking gormless, but he knew exactly what I was talking about. That childish look of acting completly oblivious was over his face. "Oh..." He mumbled. Realization flooded onto his face despite him already knowing. "Me and Wendy..."

"No fucking shit!" I could feel my temper rising up, about to burst. Yes, I was fucking angry, but I shouldn't have been taking it out on Stan. I felt horrible for it, but I couldn't just simply stop myself.

"Why?"

Because I'm in fucking love with you. I hate it, but I am.

"Stan your making a big mistake," I lowered my voice sinisterly. I knew I was being a total jack ass, but I wanted him to be mine. Not that bitch, Wendy's. And now that he's kissed me, I needed him more than I thought possible. I craved him, he was like an addiction. Just my brand of heroin.

"What the fuck does it have to do with you?" he asked, frowning.

"I'm your best friend,"

"You're sure as hell not acting like it," his voice was dark and serious. It scared me. He gave me one last meaningful glare before pulling himself to his feet.

"Wait! Stan, were the fuck are you going?" I called out, my voice on the edge of desperation.

"Out," I heard the door open, then slam shut with a loud bang. All of a sudden, the whole house felt dead. Empty. Silent. I guess that would make sense considering Stan's parents had gone out. We were supposed to have a sleepover while we had the chance, just like how we used to when we were kids. But without the whole sharing the bed thing, Stan had grown out of that a long time ago.

I was pissed off to say the least. Not with Stan though, but myself. How could I really be angry at him? He's done nothing wrong, besides kissing me, but I still hadn't decided if that was fully bad or not. It;s just me, being so fucking selfish all the fucking time. I was sick of it, and now I might have lost him as a friend because of my fucking egocentricness. Why the fuck did I have to fall in love with my best friend anyway? Fate is cruel. I hope it's getting a pretty good laugh out of this...

"For fuck's sake..." I grumbled under my breath and grabbed the pillow on my left, digging my nails in as hard as I could. I fucking hated that pillow. Too fucking soft.

"FUCK IT!" I roared and threw it across the room with all my strength. It hit the wall and then slid down to the floor, landing on the floor with an unsatisfying and barely audible thud. I couldn't even throw a fucking pillow in hopes of destroying something by accident correctly. I was a fucking failure, why Stan was my fucking friend in the first place, I had no fucking clue. He was popular, funny, really fucking hot and good at sports. Everything I wasn't. I was just annoying little Kahl Broflovski, the faggy Jew. Not to mention a fuckin day walker and a Jesus killer. I get all that crap off of Cartman enough as it is. But knowing that he's been right all along... it just makes everything hurt all that more. I fucking hated him for it.

I felt tears brimming up in my eyes, threatening to spill. This made me even more pissed off than I already was. I bit down on my bottom as hard as I could, unsure of whether it was to stop the tears, or bring on the pain. I didn't care. My vision was cloudy and fuzzy. I felt blood pool into my mouth as my teeth sunk even further into the soft flesh Stan had his lips on just a few minutes ago. I wanted rid of it. Rid of the feeling of Stan. I felt dirty, wrong. Why did he have to do that? I guess I have to be more careful what I wish for...

I drew my legs into my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My chin was nestled in the crook between my knees as tears dripped down my face. Small, darker patches in my jeans appeared as my tears fell and I watched them, almost fascinated For a moment, everything was gone. All I could feel was the pain, nothing else, but not the pain inside of me because of Stan, just the physical pain. Just the burning in my lip, and that pain, was better than the other. It hurt far too much to bear.

When I heard the door open and then close quietly, I didn't look up. I knew Stan had come back, but I didn't know whether or not it was to apologize But I had to make things right. I was sorry for what I did, and I shouldn't have snapped at him like that. I felt horrible for it.

"Stan, I'm sorry.." I sniffed, not daring to look up. I didn't want him to see me like this. "Please-"

"Finally, I fucking found you," I heard a slightly familiar voice to my left where the door was. I felt my insides freeze. I didn't dare breathe. Who the fuck...?

I slowly turned my head to see who was intruding into my best friends house, but it was too late. I barely had a chance to react. All I saw was a hazy blur before I felt myself fall backwards, something heavy crushing me. I gasped, finding it hard to breath. My eyes were clenched shut, but when I finally opened them, I felt a shockingly strong pair of hands wrap around my throat. I stared into the eyes of my attacker.

"B-Bebe...?" I weezed, too stunned to react properly. She looked cold, evil. Terrifying to say the least. It was hard to recognize that it was actually the blonde I knew from school, but I was sure it was her. Blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail, no makeup, baggy clothes, bad skin, it didn't look anything like her. The Bebe Stevens I knew was steaming hot. What the fuck happened to her? And why the fuck has she broken into Stan's house? And why the fuck was she trying to kill me?

My mind had gone blank. Even more blank than when Stan had kissed me. Was that possible? I guess this was just a complete shock. I never took Bebe to be the kind of girl to break into people's houses.

"I'm sorry Kyle," her voice was hoarse, she sounded exhausted.

"W-What are... you-Gah!" her sharp, perfectly manicured nails dug into my neck, making me cry out in pain.

"Shit! What the fu-"

"I need you to tell me where my money is, Jew..." her voice trailed off and she licked her lips, an icy smile playing on them. I glint of something purely evil flashed across her lime green eyes just before I suddenly felt her knee go straight into my groin.

"AH FUCK!" I roared, trying to double over but I couldn't. The pain was Earth shattering, fuck... I never knew girls had such fucking strong knees.

"I mean it Kyle. I know you have it. I saw you. Now tell me, or I'll send my boys after you again, now... you wouldn't want that, would you?"

What the? So it was her money? She's the one behind all of this? She sent those freaks after me...?

"Wh-What? Stan is going to b-be back any minute now..." My voice was barely a whisper My teeth were clenched against the pain, my eyes were squeezed shut again. "H-He'll all the fu-fucking police..."

"I just saw Stan, and I can assure you, he's not coming back any time soon. Oh, and I made sure you're little friend with the gun won't be intruding on us either," hatred dripped off each word venomously. She tightened her grip around my throat, starting to cut off my oxygen. I struggled, my hand flying out to the side to try and grasp something from the table I could use to defend myself. I would try pushing her away, but that could mean accidently touching her boobs. I know I'm fucking stupid for saying that but they fucking disgust me. Was she talking about Craig? My mind was a blank, I couldn't think. But that gun... it wasn't even fucking real...

"Why...?" I managed to say in a croak.

"Why?" She almost laughed, a grin appearing on her face. "Because I worked hard getting that money! It belongs to me and Brian. And you've fucking stolen it!"

"No I fucking didn't! I don't even know what you're talking about!" I swear she loosened her grip slightly, just so I could reply.

"You little fag. TELL ME WHERE IT IS!" She tightened her grip once again, and I felt my eyes rolling into the back of my head, everything was slowly turning to black. I was going to die. Bebe fucking Stevens was going to kill me. Honestly, this was the last way I expected to go.

Suddenly, when I thought I was about to lose conscience, I felt my finger slide across something that felt sharp. I didn't know what the fuck it was, but I grabbed it instantly, a spark of hope igniting within me. I brought it up and plunged it down, straight into the side of Bebe's neck. I drove it in as far as I could, and for a moment, I thought she was just ignoring it and would continue to choke. It took a few seconds for her to actually react.

"F-Fuck... Kyle... W-What the...?" She stumbled backwards. I heard the door open, then the usual loud slam as it closed. Bebe was on the floor. I massaged the sore skin of my throat, wincing as I sat up. Her eyes were wide open with shock, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to say something. A pair of fucking scissors were jutting out of the side of her neck. No blood had been spilt, and it was the kind of wound that if the object was removed, you wouldn't be able to stop the bleeding without stitches. If Bebe took those scissors out of her neck, she would die. She would bleed out all over Stan's living room carpet.

"Holy fucking shit!"

I looked up. Stan was stood, staring at the scene, his jaw hanging wide open. Bebe also looked up, I saw a dark hatred in her eyes as she pulled herself to her feet.

"Oh fuck... B-Bebe! Are you... are you o-okay?" Stan instantly darted forward toward the blonde. I wanted to scream and tell him to get away from the crazy bitch, but I couldn't. I was too fucking scared I couldn't even open my mouth.

The next thing that happened was an insane blur. A quick flash of something being pulled out of the blonde's pocket, then I saw Stan fall back, a look of horror on his face. He lifted his arm as if to protect himself. At that exact moment Bebe grabbed his sholder, the sliced something across his throat. A spurt of blood and then he collapsed to the floor. Bebe just walked out of the room, the scissors still protruding out of her neck.

Stan.

He was sprawled out on the floor, a dark red liquid pooling out around him. Blood gushed out of his jagged throat and his eyes... Oh fuck... those eyes...

Pain and horror were glazed over them. Sadness and disbelief. They stared up at me, boring straight into mine, silently crying for help.

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A/N: I am truly evil person. I can't believe I did that! Seriouslah, you have no idea how guilty I feel for what I have just done...

Please tell me what you think, it's so important that I know... Drop a review down in the crotch...?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sup gahs. I am so sorry. This chapter isn't particlually good. In fact, it wasn't even supposed to be here, but I needed to write a Cartman POV. It's a little short, but here it is!

Chapter eight - - - ERIC POV - - -

It has been four days since Stan died. I haven't seen Kyle in all that time, and for some reason... I feel a little bad for him. Not that I care really, it's just this whole doom and gloom atmosphere everyone seems to be sulking in. It's seriously depressing. Everyone at school keep on fucking crying, there is a group of girls who have started wearing nothing but black to 'show respect' for him. Fucking fags. He's dead, it's not as if there is anything we can do about it. Stan was one of my friends too... I may have acted a little cold toward him, but that doesn't stop me from being a little shocked at his sudden death. It's just weird without him around I guess. One less person to rip on.

Apparently, they don't know who the killer was. They say that Kyle was there when it happened, that he saw the whole thing, but those are just rumors. If that was true, he would have said something by now. Kyle was totally gay for him, and he's one of those 'I will revenge you' people. I can imagine the little fag crying beside him, swearing to hunt down and slit the throat of whoever did it. I wouldn't blame him I guess. I haven't even recieved any gossip on what has actually happened yet. I guess that is one reason I am looking forward to seeing my little Jew. That, and because of what happened three weeks ago.

I've already taken the piss out of Kyle over the incident in the corridor, and like I said before, I was bored of the same shit going down everyday. Because of Kyle's irrisistable attraction toward me, I guess I found hope in something new and exciting to annoy him with. Well, it got boring as fuck pretty much instantly. He just ignored me, and stayed with Stan. If I tried to do anything, his little body guard would get annoyingly protective and keep trying to beat the shit out of me. That, I guess was a little funny at first, but then just became incredibly irritating.

But, he's gone now. Stan isn't there to hug and kiss him and all that faggy crap constantly. Plus, Kyle is probebly quite vulnerable at the moment. First raped, then his best frind murdered... his life is pretty shit at the moment. Oh, and then there is me. I just get to enhance all the bad stuff going on around him, and make him miserable. I would usually enjoy this so fucking much but I felt tired. I wanted to see Kyle, but I wasn't sure if it was actually so I could make him feel like shit, or if... well, I don't know. And I don't give a crap either.

Like when Kyle was in hospital, the only person there was to really talk to, was Kenny. He was pretty down. Mourning or whatever it's called. I don't really understand it all that well. He had a couple of days off school, but when he came back, he was all quiet. Fucking weird. He's one of the most bubbly, over excited perverted people I know. From what I've heard off Butters, he hasn't even looked at any porno since last week. He's been talking to me, but barely. In the last two weeks or so, he's been spending pretty much all of his time with his faggy little boyfriend. They've been going steady for a while now, and it is fucking disgusting. Always snogging and shit. Gay on gay action is revolting. Especially when it's Butters fucking Stotch. I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't a virgin anymore. I shuddered at the thought.

It was just plain fucking shit without Stan being there to just irritate everyone, Kyle just dissapearing, and Kenny hardly talking to me. There was nothing to do. No one to piss off. I just bullied that french fag instead. It was alright for a while.

But life was so boring.

Until I decided to go for a walk in the park. That is when it got interesting again.

I went out, and it was fucking freezing. It was dark, and there was a chill in the air that made me shiver. I couldn't help but be reminded of the night back in the alley. For some reason though, I didn't want to think about it. I simply pushed the thought from my mind. My Mom was having sex again, in the kitchen. I didn't want to be around, so I decided to have a fag out in the garden. I don't usually smoke, but I felt pissed off. I didn't even know why really.

My Converse crunched in the snow as I walked to the edge of my front yard. I leaned against it, propping my elbow up on the fence. With my free hand, I dug around in my coat pocket, searching for my ciggerettes. I pulled them out along with my lighter and quickly sparked one up, shoving it in my mouth. I had bought them from Kenny a week or so ago. He said they were the strong stuff. Good, I could do with something strong, and a black coffee simply wouldn't cut it.

I inhaled slowly, the smoke burning my throat as it glided down. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling it gave me. It was relaxing, but hurt at the same time. I didn't give a crap though, until I doubled ove spluttering. Shit! This crap was good. I decided this was certainly my brand.

"Fucking hell..." I mumbled, raising my eyebrows up at the cancer stick. Pfft. Like I gave two shits if it would kill me. It was good. I took another couple of drags, then dropped it to ground, letting it sizzle out in the snow. I yawned. It was about two in the morining. I couldn't sleep because of all the fucking noise in my house. Fuck knows how that woman does it, but she can go all night long. Disgusting bitch.

With a sigh, I decided to go for a walk up to the high street. The streets were quiet, and only a few cars were to be seen, let alone people. The pavements hadn't been cleared of the snow quite yet, so it was a pain in the ass to drag myself throuhg all of it. I didn't plan on taking too long, maybe half an hour at most, but I ended up staying much longer than that.

When I saw Kyle, arms spread, a look of sheer determination on his face as he stood in the middle of the road, my insides froze.

What the fuck was he doing?

I could see a single tear rolling down his cheek, his emerald eyes glistened in the bright orange headlights coming toward him. Wait, headlights? Fuck! I bagan to panic, he was going to get himself fucking killed! What the fuck was wrong with him?

Without thinking, I ran forward. He was about twenty metres away, and I had no idea if I could make it or not. Glancing to my right, I saw a truck speeding straight for him. He closed his eyes and stepped forward.

"Dude! Move!" I screamed, lurching ahead. I didn't want him to fucking die. Stan was already dead. He didn't hear me, but I saw his lip twitch. Did he find this funny? What the fuck? "Kyle, for fuck's sake!"

He smiled, more tears running down his face. Was he fucking deaf? Why wouldn't be fucking listen to me? He took another step forward, but it seemed to be in slow motion. I felt as if I was barley moving, and the only thing going at a fast speed was the thing that was most likely going to end Kyle's life.

I was so close, yet so far. The truck was a mere three metres away. Nothing could save him now. I willed my legs to move faster, but they felt like lead. I was tired, my heart pounding hard, adreneline pumping through my body. Animal instinct took over my whole body as I felt my foot smack down on the curb. I threw myself forward, my arms outstretched as I felt myself blinded by the bright headlight beaming relentlessly in my eyes.

A/N: Yeah, I know. It wasn't the best chapter I've ever witten. Sorry about the length too, I was a bit stumped with it though. Hopefully it will get better when we see this in Kyles POV.

Still, thankyou for reading, please drop a review down in the crotch!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hey, whats up you gahs. I am thinking about changing the name of this fic to either 'Sorry I'm a fuck up' or 'Fuck up'. You'll see why in this chapter (which is plain depressing, I'm not sure if you gahs will actually like it, after all, these charecters are a little ooc. Especially Kyle atm, but I'll leave that up to you to decide, cos I'm not sure) and I would appreciate it if you gave me your opinion. Thanks gahs!

BTW: To anyone's reviews I haven't replied to (I have no clue xD) I would like to say and extra massive super thankyou! I love you gahs you are all so fucking awesome!

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Chapter Nine - - - KYLE POV - - -

"Kyle, sweetheart..." I felt my matress dip with a creak as Mom sat down beside me. I didn't look up.

"I know how hard this is for you... to lose someone you really care about, I really do know what it's like," I felt her hand rest against my shoulder, just like he would when I was upset. I flinched. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. She had no idea what it was like.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Her voice was sweet and tender as if she was talking to a six year old. It made me feel sick.

I wanted to nod, but found myself too tired to bother. It's not as if there is any point. She was right though. It does hurt. It hurts more than I could have ever imagined. It was as if my heart had been ripped out and crushed to pieces.

"Aww bubulah... just remember, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here," I almost snorted in amusment. Did she expect me to tell her what was going on in my head? How I feel like pulling my hair out everytime I think about it? How I see his terrified face everytime I close my eyes? No. It was horrible enough just hearing his name.

"Dinner will be done in an hour, please try and eat something today, Kyle," the bed bounced slightly as she got up. She gave me a worried glance before giving me a wry smile and then leaving my room. The door slammed shut lightly.

I let out a shaky breath and pulled my knees into my chest. Once again I was all choked up. A lump had risen in my throat and tears were prickling at my eyes. I bit down on my lip trying to get rid of them. I was fucking sick of crying. Sick and tired of it. But I couldn't seem to stop. Anything, absolutly anything that even slightly reminded me of him would make pain blossom in my chest. I could try and not think about him, I could try blocking it all out, but the thing was, everything I saw reminded me of him.

I let out a small sob. I wanted to feel his arms wrap around me like they usually would when I needed him. I half expected him to appear beside me, whisper my name and pat my back comfortingly. When he didn't, I let out a sigh.

What point was there?

I tried desperatly to find an answer that didn't exist. For the last few days, I've been finding less and less motivation to bother with anything. Even eating seemed a waste of time. But I guess that's what losing the one person you would take a bullet for does to you. It tears away the part of you that makes you enjoy life. Just like how that bitch ripped my super best friend away from me.

Bebe.

The police have no idea it was her, and I certainly wasn't going to tell them. I'm sure they know that I saw the murder, despite what I put in my statement. It wasn't as if I could tell them though. I know exactly what would happpen if I did. Bebe made that very clear in the email I recieved yesterday. I wasn't planning on telling them anyway. I don't even care anymore. Fuck it all. The world could just burn right now and I wouldn't bat an eyelash.

I was tired. Exhausted to be exact. I hadn't slept for the last four nights, and even before that I found it hard to fall asleep. I was being plauged with horrific nightmares that haunted me, even when I was awake. They just seemed all that more real when I was dreaming.

My parents didn't know about this, but I'm sure they will have some idea that I'm having trouble sleeping. I know how much of a mess I look. My skin was pale and unhealthy, my hair was limp and untidy, and I had large purple bags under my eyes from lack of sleep. They blended in quite well with all of the other bruises that covered me. Most of them had started to heal, but they were still visable. My arm was still pretty badly knocked up but at least I had my other hand back now, not that there was anything worth bothering with to do with it.

I won't deny that I've been a little reckless lately too. It was as if I was trying to get hit by cars when I was crossing the road, taking a few extra pills for my medication by accident, little things like that. Up until now, I haven't really thought about it, but... am I suicidal? I haven't been conscienciously trying to get myself killed, but when I think about it, that's what I've been doing.

My breathing hitched at the realization within me. I... I wanted to die? Did I? It would all make sense. All of this shit I've been through in the last month... and now my best friend is gone... there is just nothing left for me anymore. I was in love. In love with the one person I could never be with, but just because I couldn't be with him didn't mean that I didn't want him around. And now... he's dead.

And it's all my fault.

If I just... if I didn't shout at him because he wanted to propose to Wendy, then he would be alive. He's have never left in a fit of rage all pissed off at me. Bebe would come in and we would have the advantage.

He would still be here.

"Your're right Kyle."

My heart stopped. Th-that...W-was it possible? He's alive? I felt my breathing faulter at the sound of his perfect velvety voice. How I loved it. My insides warmed up at it. I needed to hear him. I needed to see him. Slowly, I lifted my head and turned my tear stained face to the far left corner of my room.

"S-Stan...?"

He was there. Staring straight at me. The same eyes that cried out to me when he died, they were there, boring into mine. My heart thudded beneath my ribcage at a threateningly fast pace. He was drenched in his own blood, the thick, crimson red liquid was spilling from his torn throat. His face was hauntingly pale, unhealthy. He looked like a corpse.

"You killed me."

Blood gushed from his mouth as he spoke but he didn't seem to care. He didn't blink, only stared at me with dead, lifeless eyes.

Shivers were creeping across my skin, raising goosbumbs up and down my arms. I gawked at him gormlessly, unable to find the right words to say to him. My stomach lurched and I suddenly wanted to be sick.

"It's all your fault."

Then he was gone. I began to panic, throwing my arms out in front of me. My fingers scraped at the thin air, craving his empty presence.

"Stan! No please! No..." The words died on my lips. I knew he wasn't coming back. I didn't care about the things he had said, only the fact I could see him, hear his voice.

I needed more of that.

But he was right... It was my fault. Does he hate me now? When he spoke, he spoke with distaste, hatred rolling off his tongue. And his eyes... they looked so sad, yet so angry at the same time. Was this him trying to tell me something? That I shouldn't live any longer? He was right. He was always right.

I knew I was under the influence of something that didn't even exist, but it was his words that rung true in my ears. I shouldn't deserve to live after what happened. It should have been me. It was all my fault..

I clutched my head in my hands, gritting my teeth to try and stop the scream building up in my throat from escaping. My breathing came out in raspy shallow breaths, I wanted to scream, shout, I wanted to destroy everything around me, but more than ever, I wanted to destroy myself.

I wanted it all to end.

I stood up, my bed creaking underneath me as I did so. My eyes darted up to the clock quickly before I left my room. It wasn't particually late, but it was still dark. I went down the stairs staring straight ahead, in a trance like state. I felt dead. Like I shouldn't have even be here in the first place. I was just a mistake in this world. I shouldn't even exist. My existance killed him. Bebe wanted me dead, not him. I did this. I killed him. I had his life in the palm of my hand, but I threw it away. I didn't save him...

Thoughts of regret and gulit poisened my mind, there was nothing I could do. I didn't even leave a note. I just left, intending to never come back.

I knew it would hurt my family. Ike would miss me, Mom and Dad would be devastated, and then there is Kenny and Butters, all my friends at school. I'm just a burden to them. They don't deserve to have to put up with me. All I do is fuck everything up.

I guess that's what I am. A fuck up.

I wallowed in self pity, I felt sorry for myself. I was just sorry that I'm a fuck up. I'm just a glitch in society, something that went wrong. I was being fucking pathetic, and I knew I was. But that didn't stop me. I couldn't help but feel worthless. A bad luck charm.

I walked for hours, completely unaware of where the fuck I was even going. I didn't have my hat or coat on and it was freezing, but the harsh bite of the wind burned my skin blissfully. It felt good. I stood by the side of the main road, waiting. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, I mean, I've never commit suicide before. It always looks so easy in the movies, but I was terrified, but strangely enough, thrilled at the same time. The feeling was excilerating, it made my heart rate speed up and adreneline began pumping throughout my whole body. I put one foot forward, stepping off the curb and my stomach lurched, but it was in a good way.

Suddenly, a car whisked by and I let out a surprised yelp as I fell bak, startled. I gasped as I hit the cold snow covered ground and winced, pulling myself up. Jesus... that fucking hurt. I straightened myself up and swallowed nervously, still unsure of what I was doing. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment before I opened them. They flew open in shock when I saw him right in front of me. His nose was nearly touching mine and blood was dripping gruesomely from his face.

"Shit! Stan! What the fuck are you doing, dude!" I shouted, just like I would if he had actually scared me before all of this crap. It felt weird.

"No, Kyle," a dangerous smile played on his blood thristy lips. "What are you doing?"

I blinked, unsure of what to say.

"Um... trying to kill myself?" I sounded like a fucking idiot saying something so serious in such a carefree 'I don't give a fuck' tone. I gulped.

"Then why aren't you doing that? You aren't having second thoughts now are you?" he spat, blood spraying all over my face. I ignored it, despite how fucking gross it was.

"No,"

"Then do it. You have to feel the pain I felt Kyle. You killed me, now it's your turn to die," he smiled mockingly. I lifted a hand to his face, I wanted to touch him, feel his skin beneath my fingertips, but when my hand went through him, he was already gone.

Instantly, I wanted him to come back. I was desperate to see him again. What if he came back if I did as he said? If I died, I could see him, talk to him. Be with him.

My heart spiked with glee at the thought. I wanted that, so wasn't death my best option? It had to be!

I nodded to myself and walked forward into the middle of the road, determination shining on my face. I had no clue what the fuck I was even doing, and my anti-depressents were having an exteremly weird effect on me. They certainly weren't helping though. I remembered when my therapist prescibed them to me last week. She said they would make all the bad things go away, not make them even worse. She was a bitch anyway, treating me like a fucking child. It pissed me off, like a lot of stuff does these days.

But that was all going to end now, wasn't it? All the nightmares, gulit and remorse, all the gut wrenching feelings I got in my stomach whenever I thought about him, the aching in my chest... it would all just go away.

It's not as if I have anything left to live for anyway. Fuck the world. Fuck everything. I couldn't care less at the moment. Everyone benifits from this. He gets what he wants, Eric gets to live without me in his life, no one has to ever put up with me again... what could be better than this? The thought of how everyone will be happy with me gone made me smile, the corners of my lips pullling up.

Ahead of me, two huge blinding lights were slwoly coming in my direction. With every passing moment, they grew bigger and moved faster. I saw the truck they belonged to and felt myself panic slightly. All of a sudden, I was questioning what I was doing. Was this really what I wanted? Was this the right thing to do...?

"Yes..." His cold voice whispered in my ear. I gulped and spread my arms out, ready to embrace death.

"That's right Kyle. Feel what you did to me. Only then will I be able to forgive you. You are, my super best friend aren't you...?"

I didn't reply, but just hearing those words brought tears to my eyes. I had to do this. I was determined to. Nobody could save me now. I was too far gone. To entangled with the reasurring idea of death. It was waiting for me, and there was nothing that could stop what was about to happen. There was a distinct chill in the air that made me shiver. Not cold though, it was a more ominous, evil feeling. Like something full of pure hatred. I squeezed my eyes shut. The light was getting a little too bright for my weak eyes. I should be wearing my glasses but fuck those. I haven't worn them in about two years. With a shaky breath, I stepped forward, closer to the end.

Suddenly, I heard something. It was familiar, too familiar and sent shivers running down my spine. That voice... it was Eric's.

What the fuck was he doing here? Was he here just so he could laugh at me in my last moments? I felt a smile pull up at my lips but I restrained it. He could laugh all he wanted, I didn't care.

"Kyle!" I heard him shout my name. There was a strange desperateness to it that was completely unfamiliar to my ears. "For fuck's sake!"

I smiled, ignoring him. Fuck, it was probebly just my imagination anyway. The only voice I would listen to was he who was guiding me through this. I heard footsteps, loud and heavy as they crunched through the snow. They were coming toward me fast, almost as fast as the truck heading straight in my direction. It was so close...

Then everything was a violent blur.

At first, I thought that was it, I was dead, but the impact came from my right, not head on. What did this mean? I didn't feel bodyless or like a ghost or whatever, I just felt as if I had been tackled in a game of football.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking idiot!" I heard Eric's voice shouting down to me. I frowned, my eyes snapping open. The first thing I saw was fatass's face looming directly over mine. What the fuck? Did he have to choose right now to torment me? Could he not see I was a little preoccupied?

"What were you thinking? You could have died!" The scent of cheap cologne and cheese poofs was wafted all around me, engulfing me. It was strangely comforting.

"No fucking shit Sherlock..." I grumbled, propping myself up on my good elbow. I rubbed my head, wincing.

"What did you think I was trying to do? Give the truck a fucking hug?" I was pissed off. I glared at him hatefully. When I didn't see disgust or hate cover his face, my frown deepened. He looked shocked, scared, and maybe even a little worried.

"No you stupid fag! I thought you were trying to fucking kill yourself!"

I gawked at him.

"Then why the fuck did you stop me? Jesus, Eric..." I let out an annoyed huff and tried to stand up. The brunette quickly pulled at my sleeve, yanking me down.

"What did you just call me?" I expected him to be angry, but he wasn't.

"Um... Cartman...?" I replied. Did I call him by his first name? I didn't even notice.

"No, no, you called me Eric," his eyebrows furrowed together as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Whatever," I mumbled. I didn't care. I just wanted him to fuck off.

"No. Not whatever-" He began to argue with me.

"What is your problem?" I suddenly snapped, cutting him off. I surprised myself slightly. I stood up. Eric did the same.

"Dude, I just saved your fucking life!" He looked concerned. Not for me though. He was propebly worried about something else.

"Did I ask you to?"

"No but I-"

"Just don't fucking interfere! I'm free to decide what I do with my life! And I don't want you acting like you care! Just leave me alone, for fuck's sake!" I turned and began stomping toward the park. I needed to think, by myself.

"Kahl, I do care,"

I froze.

"Don't fuck with me, Eric, I'm not gonna take your shit right now, okay?" My voice broke. Great. I was getting all fucking emotional again. I carried on walking , tears streaming down my face. I wiped them away with my sleeve roughly, making my skin feel raw. I heard footsteps behind me and I knew he was trying to follow me. It reminded me of the night in the alley, but I tried my best not to think about it.

"Kahl! Oh, fuck..." the footsteps got faster, he was running. When I felt a hand on my shoulder I whirled around to face him

"What do you want?" I yelled, more tears spilling from my eyes. I didn't bother wiping them away. Fuck them, I don't fucking care.

Eric blinked, and looked unsure of what to say.

"I don't want you to die..." he eventually mumbled. Something flashed across his face, but I couldn't tell what it was.

"Well guess what, it's your fucking fault that I'm going to do just that, right now!" I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm.

"I said, I don't want you to die, Kahl," his voice was cold, dangorus. The slightly nice Eric was gone.

"Why? What has it got anything to do with you?"

"Everything,"

"No it doesn't! Just leave me alone you fucking creep!" I shoved him in the shest with my good hand. He didn't react, he just stared at me, an unfamiliar emotion stirring in his dark brown eyes.

"Kahl, I need you," I frowned. What the fuck was he talking about now? Could he not just let me go?

"No you don't, you hate me! And I hate you!" I sounded a little childish, but I ignored it. Eric shook his head, biting his bottom lip.

"I need that hate. Seriouslah... without you my life is fucking boring as shit..." he shrugged honestly.

"What does that even mean? Jesus, dude, why do always have to be so fucking picky?"

"Because you're mine,"

I blinked.

"What?" My voice was small, barely a wimper. I felt scared, and I didn't know why. Eric smiled.

"You're mine Kahl. You're my little Jew."

* * *

A/N: Crappie crappie crappie! Wowz, if you are reading this then you must be pretty fucking bored! What I just wrote was the biggest amount of shit ever! Serioslah, why you gahs like this crap... jeese I just don't know!

But you are all amazing for all the support you've given me and I really do love you gahs. Really!

BTW: I mentioned earlier about changing the name of this fic.

'sorry I'm a fuck up'

or

'fuck up'

Idk which, they are pretty similar, but I want to see what you, as my lovley readers think! If you have any other ideas, plz tell me, it would be really appreciated!

I love you gahs! Drop a review down in the crotch! (Which no, doesn't have crabs. I don't think...)


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: heyy! Whats up you gahss! I've just finished chapter nine, and now im going straight onto number ten cos I'm just so hyped up! I mean, this story has been up for about... eight or nine days, and already it has like nearly fifty fucking reviews! It's just wow... I'm in love with you gahs really, I am! Nearly as much as I'm in love with my little Kahl the Jew xD

I am sorry though, this chapter is a little short, but I'll try to update real quick to make up for it ;D

So as usual, I absolutly love you gahs, and I really, really apprectiate all the support. A big 'I FUCKING LOVE YOU, YOU ARE ALL SO FUCKING AWESOME' to all of the people who took the time to review and tell me what you think, you gahs are the best!

And thankies to everyone else who has been reading this, I'm so glad you have put up with me and I really hope you are enjoying this fic.

BTW: I regret to inform you huge Cartman fans, but this fic is gonna be mainly focused on Kyle for a few more chapters, but don't worry, he will be back!

Okay, and I am really, really sorry about the huge author note, but heck! I love you people!

Onwards to the slashy goodness!

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Chapter Ten - - - KYLE POV - - -

"You're mine Kahl. You're my little Jew."

His words echoed around in my mind hauntingly for a moment before I managed to actually get my head around what was going on. So, he wanted me to be alive, but only so he could torment me? I found the idea ridiculasly cruel, evil and well... Eric really. I couldn't believe he would force me to live just so he can satisfy his hunger for being a total jerk. I've known this a very long time, but he has some really bad fucked up issues. Then again, how could I talk? I was gay for my best friend, I got him murdered, and I'm suicidal.

And now that I think about it... was all of that Eric's fault?

If he had helped me that day... could things have possibly been different? Is it possible that none of this would have happened?

For some reason, I doubted that theory. I also had a horrible, gut wrenching feeling that the horrible things that have happened were not going to be the last. Not by a long shot. And I knew that Eric's new found possesion over me was going to lead to something bad.

As I pondered the many ideas and questions popping into my head, I simply stood staring at Eric. It took an awkward minute of silence before I managed to find my tongue.

"No, fatass. I'm not yours, you can fuck off," I tried to push past him, but he grabbed the front of my shirt, stopping me from moving. He pulled me toward him and I found myself staring straight into his choclolate brown eyes. Our noses were nearly touching and my breathing was escalating quickly, my heart beat pounding twice as fast. An electric shock jolted through my body, much like when we were in the corridor and he had me pinned up against the lockers. He leaned his forehead into mine, pressing it up lightly against my red curls which weren't hidden underneath my ushanka. The air around us seemed to turn stuffy and the tension in the atmosphere was unbearable. He narrowed his eyes which were cold and hateful, but they had something else in them. Something I simply couldn't recognise.

"Eric, let go of me," my voice was stronger than I expected it to be in my weak state. I knew I was vulnerable, which was why I couldn't let him get to me. I can't let him control my life. He's done that for too long now.

"No. You're mine," his breath tickled against my lips. It was warm and tasted sweet, faintly of cheese poofs. I tried to come up with an answer, but I was speechless.

"And if you kill yourself, I will murder everyone you care about," he was completly serious. There wasn't a single speck of doubt in his promise. My breathing hitched, my eyes widening slightly. I was terrified, because... I knew he was telling the truth. He would do those things. I've seen what he has done in the past. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

And he wants me.

"Kinny will be the first, oh that will be fun. Then your little brother, Ike..." he smiled when I inhaled a sharp breath. He wouldn't... Ike is only nine years old. He could never...

"I will gouge his eyes out with a key then make him eat them, and I'll snap each of his fingers, each of his limbs will be broken and he will be begging for death by the time I am done,"

My heart stopped momentarily. That was the most sick thing he has ever said. Not even Eric Cartman could do something so inhumane, could he?

"Then I'll slit your parents throats, and make the whole of-"

"SHUT UP!" I shouted and threw myself backwards, breaking out of the grip he had on my shirt. "Shut up," my voice was low and it cracked as I spoke. "Don't you dare..." Tears began prickling at my eyes.

"Don't what Kahl...?" He cooed mockingly. "I just don't want you to die. Don't you think that's nice? I'm being very nice to you right now, and none of these things will happen if you admit that you are mine,"

I shook my head violently, my eyes darting about searching for an escape. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to see Ike and Kenny, Mom and Dad... I wanted them to be safe. But it seemed that nobody could be safe with this phychopath around. He's dangourus. Too dangerous, and the thought of him killing my friends and family... It was horrible.

"Fuck you, Eric. Fuck you..." I turned and began running toward my house as fast as I could. I needed to get away from him. I was already his though. I knew that. I have been for a long time. And up until now, I hadn't even noticed. He had control over me, but so did Stan. I was just a pawn to both of them, a piece of worthless crap to play with. There wasn't anything I could do about it...

Then there is Bebe too.

After what she did... will she even be in school? Has she fled the country? She's not dead, despite the wound I made to her neck. She must have gone to a hospital or something. The fuck if I know. I just want that bitch dead. But I can't do that either... she made that very clear in her email.

'I know where you are, fag. I'm watching you. I've got plenty of people lined up who are ready fuck your brains out if you do ANYTHING. I want that money, and I will get it back. But not yet. Don't worry, I'm giving you a little time, let's say... a month maybe? Don't worry Kyle. I'm not going to kill you. Oh, I couldn't do that now, could I? What a waste it would be. Stan is already dead. Good thing too. That cunt was going to try and marry my best friend. But I couldn't let you die... no, your much to precious. But I want my money. And if I don't get it, I'll have my boys rape your little canadian smartass brother. Don't doubt me on that Kyle Broflovski. See you later gorgeous. xx -B'

It seemed that everyone wants me alive, but for the wrong reasons. And they all seem dead set on taking it out on my brother if I do anything against what they want. Sick fuck ups. I fucking hate them. I hate all of them. Everybody. Why does everyone have to have some kind of problem against me? Why can't they just leave me the fuck alone? Al I want is to fucking die, and they won't even let me do that. My life just has to be fucking miserable. I hate God. Not that I even believe in him, but he is a total jerk. I bet he just got pissed off when he lost a bet to that jackass, Satan, and now he's taking it out on me.

Because everyone is out to get poor little Kyle Broflovski, aren't they?

* * *

A/N: Like I said, a little short O.o

Drop a review down in the crotch? It would make my day xD


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: hey, whats up you gahs! Not much to say atm, so carry on my wayward son! (Don't ask, but you supernatural fans will get me)

* * *

Chapter 11 - - - KYLE POV - - -

I laid in my bed wide awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling. Why sleep was always so fucking hard to get was beyond me. My therapist said I have insomnia, and she gave me some pills to help with it. Fuck the pills, I'm on enough now as it is. I know that I would be able to get a nice, maybe even dreamless sleep if I took them, but I didn't want to take the risk. Whenever I did manage to drift off for a couple of hours, Stan would be waiting for me. Some times he would be nice to me. He would ask me if I'm okay, and he would promise that I would get through this. That was the real Stan, the one I was super best friends with. The other Stan was the one that haunted me even in my conscience hours. He would threaten me, tell me I'm worthless and try driving me past the point of no return. That was the Stan I was terrified of.

It was already five in the morning, and I was considering getting ready for school. My Mom said that I don't have to go back for another week if I didn't want to, but my therapist said otherwise. I didn't usually listen to the crap that came out of her mouth, but she was right. I did have to get my life back on track. I needed distractions, anything to stop my mind from wandering to anything that would bring back those awful memories, or remind me of Eric and Bebe.

I was about to switch on my light when I heard a small beeping sound. My phone. I hesitantly dived onto my bed and snatched it from my desk which was right beside it. My heart faltered for a moment when I saw a text pop up on my screen.

Fatass - Don't get yourself killed.

I blinked.

What was that supposed to mean? No... actually, I know exactly what he's trying to say. It's pretty God dammed fucking obvious. Memories from last night flood into my head and I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut against them. I was sick of having to hide from every thing, having to try not think about the last month because I was a fucking wimp. It's not like remembering something is the same as it happening again. That would be fucking horrible. I felt sorry for the people with photographic memory. Especially if it was my life they were living.

Pursing my lips, I got back up and flipped my bedroom light on. It was brighter than I expected it to be, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. Everything had seemed dark lately, like there was no light in my life. I guess that's true. I took my time getting dressed, careful not to knock my bad arm. It was still bandaged up, and the cast wasn't going to come off for another three weeks. Even then, it still wouldn't be working properly and it would take at least another month to get it feeling back to normal. I was looking forward to it slightly, but the thought didn't make me as happy as it should have done.

I had taken a quick shower after I had gotten in, and my hair had dried into a frizzy, curly mess. I decided to at least attempt to get it back half decent, and spent the next half hour in the bathroom. Eventually, I gave up. I would just wear my ushanka anyway, that's why I had gotten it in the first place wasn't it? So I could hide the hair on my head I was so ashamed of. Lots of people have told me it looks good now that I have had it cut, but to me, it's a hideous thing. I hate it, but Stan loved it.

He used to always play with my hair all of the time, and I called him girly for it. It felt good when he ran his fingers through it, when he twirled the ends around his finger. I may have gotten annoyed when he used to do it, but now I would give anything just to have that feeling again. That's jus another one of the millions of thing I missed about him. The list was endless.

With a reluctant sigh, I splashed some cold water on my face. I shivered at the contact, but it was refreshing and felt good on my dry skin. I looked terrible. I decided not to even attempt trying to hide the yellowing bruises on my face. I would probably just end up embarrassing myself after using Mom's concealer. That didn't go down so well last time.

School took the absolute piss.

Everyone was constantly trying to give me hugs and shit like that, it was fucking annoying. Sure, I'm in mourning for my best friend, but that doesn't mean everyone in the whole school has to try and comfort me. I just wanted to be left alone, why couldn't they get that? It was mainly bad because everyone was so nice to me. I didn't like it. Everytime they mentioned Stan, I got all fucking emotional and had to do my best to fight back the tears. I ended up bunking off my third lesson just so I could try and get all of the crying out of me in the toilets. Well, that plan went out the window when Kenny and Butters cames in.

I hadn't spoken properly to Kenny since last week, and I was dying to see him. I felt as if he was one of the only people I could fully trust. He was like a brother to me. I was always closer to Stan than him, but he had always been there for me, no matter what. He would never make me talk about things that I didn't want to and he would make me laugh. He was a really good friend.

When I heard the door swing open, my whole body stiffened and I didn't dare breathe. I was sitting on the toilet (with the lid down), my knees drawn up to my chest. I had locked the door, just in case something like this did happen. I'll admit I was slightly paranoid that Bebe had sent someone after myself. I wouldn't be surprised if Eric was one of her 'boys'. I don't know how she expects me to come up with... well fuck. I don't even know how much fucking money she wants. And, I still have no fucking idea why she even thinks I have the stupid money in the first fucking place. Why would she even think that? Did she say that she saw me with it? I think she did... but why would she say that? It's impossible...

"Hey, K-Kenny," I heard Butters' voice and I was ripped out of my thoughts as I snapped my attention to the small blonde's voice.

"What...?" Kenny grumbled. He sounded unhappy and majorly pissed off. I had no doubt it had something to do with Eric. Come to think off it, I still haven't seen the brunette today.

"I-If you were going to die... How would y-you want it to happen?"

There was a moment of silence before the dirty blonde let out a sigh.

"I'd want to be with you, after we had lived long, happy lives together," his reply to Butters' question was something I didn't expect. It was sweet, and small smile tugged at my lips. That sounded like a nice way to go. I knew it wouldn't be like that for me though. I had a gut feeling I didn't have much longer left.

"Gee, Kenny. Y'know... I-I, well there is something I realized last night,"

"How devilishly sexy I am?" Kenny said in a flat tone. It sounded as if he tried to be flirtatious. Frankly, it didn't work. He sounded tired, fed up. He had something on his mind.

"No! No.. I mean, y-yes you are! Bu-but I... well, I already knew that, it was s-something else," I could almost see Butters face as it lit up a scarlet red as he blushed.

"Okay, what is it?"

"I... well gee, this is harder than I thought it would be..."

"Don't worry, just say it. You can trust me," Kenny's voice was comforting and reassuring toward his boyfriend.

"I love you, Kenny,"

I suddenly felt extremely awkward sat in a bathroom stall, earwigging on my friends admitting that they love each other. I squirmed slightly uncomfortably. I needed an escape. Was there any way I could get out of here without being seen? I felt horrible intruding on such a private moment. I gulped, doing my best to be quiet. Gulping silently when trying to be hidden is extremely hard. I suddenly needed to go to the toilet too. Fuck's sake. This always happens when I'm hiding from someone. I always need the God dammed fucking toilet. Irony of it being I was sat on one and I couldn't even use it.

"B-Butters..." Kenny stammered. He actually sounded kind of nervous for once. That was a change. I didn't want to hear this. It felt incredibly wrong. I chewed my bottom lip, doing my best to block out what I was hearing. That was the least I could do wasn't it? I briefly considered crawling underneath the stall and into the next one, then keep going and dart out of the door unnoticed. I quickly shook my head. Like that would work...

"I-I know you might not love me back... b-but I wanted you to know, cos it's true.. y'know?"

"Come here," Kenny grunted. I heard some shuffling and then the sound of clothes being ruffled. Oh fuck, they were making out, weren't they?

"Leopold Butters Stotch," Kenny murmured his full name as I heard them pull away, I think. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on. "I love you too," my heart stopped. Oh fuck, I did not need to hear that. More make out noises.

"I'm really worried," Butters mumbled.

"About?"

"Kyle,"

I held my breath. I didn't expect to hear my name in this conversation.

"I know, dude. I know. I'm worried about him too, we all are," Kenny sounded upset.

"I-It's just I think, well I'm a little scared. He's been through so much, and you have too... With Stan being... y'know..."

I felt tears beading on my eyelashes. More fucking crying. I hated all this stupid hormonal emotional shit. It was just too much for me.

"He'll be okay," Kenny sounded unsure of himself.

"But what about y-you? Stan, he was your best f-friend,"

"There's nothing we can do Butters. Just leave it,"

"S-Sorry..."

I heard some more shuffling, then a tap being turned on. The sound of running water seemed weird.

"Let's go. I need to go find Kyle," The dirty blonde muttered quietly. I felt my whole body tense up again at the sound of my own name. Should I come out? No... to awkward. I couldn't be bothered with all the drama it could cause. I heard the door shut, and let out a relieved, but shaky breath, letting my eyes fall closed. I rolled my head back and stayed like that for a few moments before getting up.

That little encounter seemed to be stained into my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn't know why. Not like I was complaining, I was perfectly happy thinking about Kenny and Butters relationship rather than thinking about certain other past events.

Maybe it was the fact Kenny had found love that made me shocked afterwards. He'd always been a bit of a stud, but now that he's with Butters... I can't deny that I find it absolutely adorable, because it is. Despite how awkward that felt.

The lunch bell rang and I headed down to the cafeteria. Like Kenny had mentioned, he wanted to talk to me. But about what? I couldn't fathom why. I ended up just thinking it was either about him and Butters, or he just wanted to see if I was okay. Everybody wanted to see if I was okay. I was constantly being checked up on by random people. Some of them I have no idea who the fuck they are, yet they act as if we're best friends. It's creepy, and I was starting to consider that Bebe wasn't the only person who had eyes on me at all times.

My eyes landed on our usual table which was full of people I didn't recognize. Amongst them, I managed to spot Kenny, Butters and Eric trying to eat their lunch. They seemed to be being pestered by everyone around them and looked irritated. Then again, I wasn't Stan's only friend. People were also being pretty sympathetic toward the others too.

I pushed past the hoard of people carefully and managed to locate a seat in between Kenny and Eric. Kenny's bag was propped on top, saving the place for me, and to not be taken by some random person trying to get gossip from them. I crashed down in the middle just after Kenny managed to swipe his bag out before I landed beside them.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked, batting away someone's hand that was trying to pat my back.

"No fucking clue, but it's pissing me off," Kenny grunted. Usually he would have come up with some sexual comment about how they all wanted him, but he only frowned and stared at the small amount of lunch before him.

"AY!" Eric piped up beside me, glaring at the crowd around us. "Would you fuck off before I fucking rip your balls off!" This comment seemed a little stupid seeing as most of them were female. It worked though. Quickly, they all began to disperse. I forgot about the amount of power Eric had over most people. Including me.

"Sup fag?" Eric turned to face me, his eyebrow cocked up. I let out a huff and looked at Kenny.

"Fuck off Eric," I mumbled and pulled my bag up onto my lap.

"Chill Kahl. I'm just asking if you're okay,"

I didn't reply and pulled out my lunch. I gave Kenny a wry smile then passed it to him. I threw my bag back under the table.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled.

"K-Kyle! You should e-eat! It's not good to skip m-meals!" Butters pouted childishly at me.

"Yeah, Kahl. Eat your fucking dinner," Eric commented.

"You have it, I'm okay," Kenny passed it back to me. I frowned. It wasn't often he wouldn't accept food.

"No, I feel sick," I pushed my lunch box back in his direction. It was true. I wasn't feeling too good. Suddenly, Eric thrusted his arm out and snatched it away from in front of me. I glanced up at him in confusion. Kenny growled.

"Cartman, don't be such a fucking jerk. Give it back," he groaned. Clearly, he couldn't be bothered with Eric being a jackass. I don't think any of us could. The brunette glared at the blonde momentarily before shifting his gaze to me. I gulped.

"Kahl," he said then shoved the lunch into my hands. "Eat your fucking lunch,"

"Why should I? I told you, I'm not fucking hungry," with a huff I smashed the stupid box down on the table. I knew what this was about. And it wasn't the fucking lunch.

"I said eat."

His eyes pierced mine like cold splinters.

"No."

He narrowed his eyes at me. He always does that when I refuse to do something he wants.

"I said eat your fucking lunch," everyone on the table was frowning at us in confusion. Butters looked completely dazed, and Kenny just looked grumpy.

"What if I don't want to?" I raised an eyebrow up at him questionably.

"Now, now fella's..." Butters tried to calm us.

"You know what will happen Kahl. I made that very clear last night, don't you think?" He tilted his head to the side, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

"Cartman, fuck off. What is your problem?" Kenny was really pissed off now. It was strange seeing him so wound up. He's usually so light hearted.

"Shut up Kinny," Eric didn't take his gaze away from mine. It was as if our eyes were stuck staring at each other. There was some kind of electricity, a spark of something intense filling the air between us.

"Fucking asshole..." The blonde muttered under his breath. He turned to face Butters, but I could tell he still had his attention on us.

"Eat,"

"Fuck you,"

"Kahl, if you don't eat your fucking lunch," he smiled. "I'll kill Kinny,"

Kenny snorted.

"No you won't," Oh yes he would.

"You know I will,"

"Go ahead, I don't give a crap," Kenny grunted. He mumbled something else but I couldn't quite tell what it was.

"K-Kenny! I thought you were g-gonna die a differently! Don't let E-Eric do it, I like the other w-way!" Butters exclaimed panicked. I thought back to the conversation thy had in the bathrooms. It felt weird knowing that two of my closest friends were in love. I quickly pushed the thought from my mind.

"I mean it Jew. Eat,"

"Not hungry,"

The argument was already beginning to grow stale. Eric looked a little bored of it, but he's a stubborn asshole. He won't stop until he gets what he wants, even if it's something as simple as making me heat my lunch.

"Do you remember what I said about Ike yesterday?" He asked. I swallowed hard.

"Y-yes,"

"Then you should eat your dinner," I knew he was being serious. And I've already put my brother in enough danger, even if he doesn't know it. If I screw up, he could end up dead.

"Whatever fatass. If I eat will you shut the fuck up?" I spat venomously, giving up. He grinned smugly. God, I wish I could just reach out and rip that smile off his proud face.

"Of course Kahl. I'm just looking out for you. You're just so scrawny, no muscle or fat. You should eat more," he pretended to be nice, but I saw that same unfamiliar emotion flicker across his eyes.

"Just fuck off," I grunted and proceeded to eat my sandwich, despite feeling like I was going to be sick if I ate. How the fuck Eric eats so bloody much is beyond me.

After lunch I had to go see the school counsellor. I was absolutely dreading it. From what I'd heard from Stan, a certain Elementary school teacher had decided to take up the job. I was just glad Mr Mackey wasn't going to be there too.

"Hello Kyle!" Just fucking great. Mr fucking Garrison. He smiled at me beckoning for me to take a seat.

"Hi," I grumbled back with a scowl. I couldn't be assed with this.

"So, your little fag friend was killed and you watched it?"

I blinked.

Well, that was a bit forward.

"Um... yes?" I gritted my teeth. I had buried the memories away, I didn't want to unearth them again. Not now, not yet.

"And you were gay for him?" Okay, now that was uncalled for. He was supposed to be a fucking professional. Wait, I forgot momentarily that this is South Park. There isn't a decent professional in this whole stupid fucking town.

"That's none of your fucking business," I shook my head at him and crossed my arms.

"Now, now Kyle. I know that you're angry, but that language is not tolerated here,"

"Like I give a shit,"

"Kyle!" He stood up. Boobs. He had fucking boobs. Again. Fucking weirdo. "I am here to help you, but you need to let me,"

"Oh yeah, like you've ever fucking helped one God dammed person before. You're fucked up, dude. You tried to kill Terrance and Philip, you made us all run around looking for your penis, you stared a fucking war with a bunch of lesbians-" I had much, much more to say, but he quickly cut me off.

"Kyle, this isn't about me. You are here so we can talk about you, your problems," He sat back down and chewed his bottom lip.

"Well I think you should get yours sorted out first before you even think about mine,"

"Kyle, you were raped. Your best friend was murdered. Your other best friend, Eric, is a total jerk, we need to talk about that. You're traumatized, and you need help,"

"You don't know fuck all, you fucking freak,"

He looked a little offended by what I said. I didn't care. It was true. He leaned back and sighed. I could see the light from the ceiling reflect off his glasses as he stared at me.

"Believe it or not, I do Kyle. Why do you think they hired me if I didn't know how to help people?"

"Because the people who hired you live in South Park, and everyone in South Park is fucking messed up,"

He blinked. Ha. He knew I was right. This town is crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if the gates to hell themselves were underneath it. We carried on arguing for the rest of the hour, and when the bell went off, I was out the door instantly. Thank fuck, I hated that man. He screwed my life up in Elementary. He screwed everyone's lives up.

I had a free period, so I decided to go to the library. I had a shit load of homework to get through and I had to get started. It was pretty much pointless though. I was sick with worry. I couldn't stop thinking about all of the crazy shit going down in my life. I was terrified of it. Today had been hard so far. But compared to what I've been through in the last month, it was okay. I had distractions, I didn't have revisit any memories. Not too many anyway. But the crap with Bebe and Eric. I had no idea what to do. I was Eric's pet, a play thing to him. I don't even get what the fuck is going on with the blonde bitch. She's a cold blooded murderer, and she must pay.

It was then a plan began to form in my head. I didn't know how, or when. But I was going to kill Bebe Stevens.

I got up from my seat and drew in a deep breath. What the fuck was I thinking? Killing someone? No. No, that is something I won't do. At least not yet. I had other problems. Like coming up with a shit load of money. I don't know how I'm supposed to get it. God dammit, I wish I was better friends with Token. He's the richest guy in South Park by miles, I'd easily sort out this whole fucking mess.

But if I don't...

No. I don't want to think about it. I can't. I have to stay positive.

Ha.

Like that was gonna work. I tried to fucking kill myself yesterday.

I decided to go for a walk around the school. I needed fresh air. Well, that's one thing that South Park is good for. Nice, chilly cold fresh mountain air.

The snow had been cleared from the field already thank fuck, so I just strolled around, trying to mull things over in my head. Everything was so fucking confusing. I was around the back of the sports hall when I saw something I hadn't been expecting. She was curled up, leaning against the wall. Tears were streaming down her face, sending her mascara dribbling everywhere. She had a small pen knife clutched in her perfectly manicured hand, and I could see something red trickling down her sleeve. I stared in shock, unsure of what to say or do. She lets out a small sob and clenched her eyes shut, the knife poised in front of her chest, ready to be driven in. Her hand shook, trembling violently as she gulped nervously.

"Wendy...?"

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A/N: Hey brilliant, amazing people!

So yep. I don't even know if this is an even slightly interesting cliffhanger, but if it is, and it's annoyed you that you have to wait for the next chapter, I apologize. From my heart.

Okay, thanks you gahs! I love you all, so drop a review in the crotch would ya? Thankies!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hey, what's up you gahs! R&R please, I love you all xD

Chapter 12 - - - KYLE POV - - -

"K-Kyle?" Her eyes darted up, meeting mine. I felt incredibly weird then. Did I just intrude on Wendy Testaburger trying to kill herself? Holy shit... I hadn't even considered what her reaction to Stan's death would be. She was in love with him, wasn't she? I completely forgot that she would be pretty badly shaken up, let alone suicidal. But that's what I was like, wasn't it? I didn't feel as if there was any reason to go on without him, so I thought death would be best. He thought that too. It never even crossed my mind that Wendy could want that aswell.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I began to panic, and darted forward. Was she really going to kill herself? Did she really want to die? I dropped to my knees beside her and quickly snatched away the knife. She seemed too shocked at seeing me to do anything. She pulled her sleeve down, tugging at the hem of her coat trying to hide her wrist.

"No-nothing," she replied quickly and her gaze fell into her lap.

"Wendy, don't try and hide it. You were trying to.. you were going to..." I couldn't bring myself to say it. I couldn't get my head around the fact she wanted to die. Was this what it was like for Eric when he saw me? A wild impulse to stop them from dying? I didn't understand.

"Kyle, please, just leave me alone," her voice was small. Her bottom lip was quivering and her face was red from crying. I suddenly felt sorry for her. She was upset for the same reason as me. I knew how she felt, and she would understand my suffering too, wouldn't she?

"But you were going to fucking-"

"Kyle, please!" She exclaimed. Her eyes teared up quickly as she stared at me, a desperation in them that made my stomach lurch. "You of all people should understand..."

"I-I... I do," I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Then let me do this! I can't... I won't... How am I supposed to, I-I can't..." She began sobbing. I chewed my lip, unsure of how to do this. I've never really comforted a girl before. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure how it works.

"Can't do what?" I asked. She drew in a shaky breath then looked up at me.

"I can't t-tell you..." She mumbled and tried to wipe away more of her tears.

"Wendy... please, I-I can help," I smiled reassuringly. Okay, I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Could I help her? Fuck's sake...

"No. No you can't. No one can..." She sniffed and it was then I remembered something. This was Bebe's best friend. Did she know about what was going on? The money? The threats? Was she in on it all? Was this just a trap?

"Well, if you told me, I could at least try," I shrugged.

"B-but... Oh Kyle..." She threw her arms around me, nuzzling her face into my shoulder. I was shocked as fuck and let out a startled gasp. My eyes widened, and I tried to hug her back, at least with my good arm anyway.

"I-It was an accident... This wasn't s-supposed to happen..." She was trembling, her body shaking against mine. I felt her boobs press up against me, and that's when I started to feel a little awkward.

"What do you mean?" I frowned. I felt nervous, my heart was pounding, but nowhere near as fast as it did when I was with Eric last night.

"Please... I just, I don't know what to do. I-I can't talk to anyone. I don't know where Bebe is... S-Stan is gone and... and oh my God Kyle, I'm... I'm pregnant."

My insides exploded. My heart stopped, along with my breathing. What the fuck? No, it can't be. She didn't have sex with Stan, did she? He would have told me! We tell each other everything! Those two last words she said rung in my head. I felt as if I was in some bad soap opera when a teenage couple have sex and then the girl finds out she is pregnant. Except me and Wendy are certainly not together. Could this really be true? Was this why she wanted to kill herself? Because she was having Stan's baby and she didn't know how the fuck to look after it?

"The fuck...?" Was all I managed to choke out. I ripped away from her embrace, and glared at her. "You're fucking pregnant," I said flatly once I regained full control over my tongue. My tone was dead, no emotion inside of it whatsoever. "Stan got you fucking pregnant, and he didn't even told me he had lost his fucking virginity," I was pissed off, fuming. Absolutly livid. I was being a bit of an asshole for only caring about the fact Stan had hidden something from me, but I didn't care.

"I-I'm sorry... It was j-just an accident. Listen, Kyle. I-I need help. There is no way I'm getting an abortion. B-But-"

"But you're fourteen,"

"Y-yes.."

"And your parents are going to kill you when they find out,"

She nodded. I sighed.

"Wendy, I'm not a fucking girl. I don't know fuck all, but I'll say that you do need to tell your Mom and Dad," I told her pointedly. This was true. If she didn't tell them, they would find out anyway when her stomach was the size of a beachball. At least if she said something now, she would be able to run away from home without the weight of a baby dragging her down. Unless her parents were decent people and didn't drive her out of the house.

"I can't..." she looked down.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell you that everything is gonna be alright, because it won't. When one bad thing happens, it all goes downhill from there. I should know," I wasn't being the nicest and the most reassuring person in the world, but she needed someone to be straight with her. If she wasn't prepared for the worst, she would have a fuck load of a hard time when the shit stuff comes around. I used to be an optomist, always looking on the bright side of everything, so naive, but now look at me. At least when I'm killed, raped or beaten up, I'll be expecting it.

"Oh..." Came her reply.

"But that's me anyway. Maybe you'll be lucky. I always seem to get everything around me to fuck up, I've gotten used to it," that was also true. I felt as if I was numbing against all the bad things. Sure, I would still happily kill myself to escape this pointless existance, but fuck. I care about my friends and family. I can't let Eric get to them like he got to me.

"Thank you, Kyle," she smiled at me, her eyes glistening with tears. I blinked.

"Sorry?" I frowned. I was just cold as shit toward her and she's thanking me for it? What the fuck?

"Everyone has been lying to me. They all said that I would be fine, that stan was still in my heart, all that spiritual bullshit. But then you... you were honest with me. I appreciate that," her tone was sweet and calm, unlike when it was thick with tears and all jumpy. Did I really just help her?

I glanced down to her wrist which was bleeding still. Self harm... I can see why. Real pain is nothing compared to the pain of losing someone, but it takes it over nonetheless. It's relaxing, gives you a momant of clarity to relish in. Wendy notices me gawking at her cut, and she pulls her sleeve over the heel of her hand.

"Wendy... look I..."I didn't even know what I was planning on saying, I just stammered like an idiot instead.

"I'm gonna talk to Bebe. She'll know what to do," she smiled and I felt my stomach lurch. I swallowed hard. She really didn't know what her best friend had done. Her own best friend had killed the most important person in the world to both of us, and she didn't even know. I felt sorry for her. I wanted to scream at her that her blonde bitch of a freind was an evil, twisted murderer, but I couldn't. She wouldn't believe me, only think I was fucking crazy.

A/N: Gahhh boring chapter I know, and short zzz. Oh wells, I promise the next one will be good, but sadly, not Kyman yet, but please stay with me, as it will come! Eventually!

Drop a review down in the crotch? (I know about you lurkers. I can see in my stats there are people reading, but not reviewing... just warning you. Cartman doesn't like it when he is ignored -.-)


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Like usual, thank you so much to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this story. It means alot to me. BTW. Spring break is over tommorrow and I have to go back to school zzz. I won't be update nearly as frequently as I do atm and I really am sorry. Instead of everyday, it will proberbly like once or twice a week Yeah, I know, pooey really. But I'll try my best to keep this story going. Exams, coursework, homework. It all sucks Cartman's balls.

Chapter 13 - - -KYLE POV- - -

"Hey," I heard Ike's voice as he sat down next to me. I let out a sigh. I wanted to go to sleep, I was fucking exhausted and couldn't be bothered with anything at the moment. But Ike was worried about me, I knew that. I had barely spoken to him in weeks, and in all fairness, I kind of missed his cocky attitude and smartass comments.

"What's up?" He sounded concerned. Everybody was always so fussy over me, constantly asking me if I'm okay and how I felt. I knew they were just looking out for me but it was annoying. It was as if I was some six year old kid who needed persistent attention.

"Gee Ike, I don't know. What could be up with me?" I scowled, sarcasm dripping off each word. I didn't mean to be so cold toward anyone, but I just wasn't in the mood for all this affectionate crap.

"Well, to be honest, there are a couple thousand different things at the moment," he frowned, staring at the TV neither of us were paying attention to. There goes him being an annoying smartass again.

"Well no fucking shit," I pulled my legs up onto the sofa and hugged them to my chest. I rested my chin in the crevice between my knees and closed my eyes momentarily. I heard a small click and the TV went dead. My brother remained silent, and I relished in the lack of sound. It was hard to find peace and quiet in this house, and thankfully Mom was out. It was blissful, and surprisingly comforting. It was just what I needed right then. I think it was what Ike needed too.

I thought back to earlier today, when I was in the bathrooms. Kenny's life must be so easy. He never has to worry about meeting any expectations, he has someone who loves him, that actually loves him back, he practically sticks his middle finger up at things like homework and grades. Sure he has his problems too, everybody does. His family is poor, but it's not as if he let's that bother him. He just lives life to the full. Sometimes I wish things could be that simple for me.

"I'm really sorry..." Ike mumbled randomly. I frowned, turning my attention to him.

"About?" I grumbled, too lazy to open my mouth properly. A look of guilt mixed with his features as he chewed him bottom lip. His eyebrows were furrowed together, he looked a little scared. "Oh fuck's sake Ike, what did you do?"

"Please, promise not to kill me," he grimaced and swallowed hard. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, what is it?"

"Remember, you promised, no killing,"

"Just spit it out,"

Ike got up and walked to the table where his school bag was lying on top of some of Dad's papers for a case he was working on. He opened it and dipped his hand inside before pulling out something rectangular. I frowned. He lifted it up over Dad's paper work, and came over to me.

"I am so, so sorry," he passed me what looked like a photoframe. It was smashed to pieces, the picture inside torn right in half. It took me a moment to realize what it was. Me and Stan... we were grinning, flipping the bird into the camera lens. We were about twelve at the time, we had gone to some theme park with Kenny and Eric. There was a huge rollercoaster in the background that towered over us. It looked dangerous, terrifying. I was the only one who didn't want to go on it. Eric called me a girl for wussing out, but Stan said that he would stay behind as well. Kenny decided to go on it with some girl he had met earlier. Eric ended up staying and he got his camera out and decided he had to make a record of me and Stan being too scared to go on a scary ride. So we both grinned like idiots and flipped him off.

That was one of the happiest days of my life, back when there were no worries, nothing to give a crap about. I missed those days so much. I was angry that Ike had ruined it. I snarled at him. I didn't mean to be aggressive, or even angry, but I couldn't stop myself, and I didn't even know why.

"What the fuck have you done?" I jumped up, glaring at him. That was one of the only pictures I had of me and Stan together. Guilt flashed across his brown eyes as he stepped backwards.

"I-I told you, I didn't mean it. It was an accident," I recognised the words that came out of his mouth. Wendy had said a similar thing when she told me she was pregnant.

"How the fuck did you even manage this? Photos don't get ripped when the smash on the floor! For fuck's sake Ike!"

"Well, like I said, it was an accident, please don't kill me!" He looked genuinely terrified I would do just that. I was tempted to, but that would be fucking pointless. All he had done was rip a photo. No biggie, Kyle. You can just print another copy off...

I told myself this, but I was still angry. I teared my gaze down from Ike's to look again at the photo. It hurt looking at it. Me and Stan were seperated from each other where it had been torn. My side of it suddenly looked so much more lonely, cold and sad. It just seemed ironic that Stan had been taken away from me, just like in this picture.

"Just get out," I grumbled. I actually felt scared I would hurt Ike. I was disgusted with myself for even considering doing something like that.

With a quick nod, the brunette darted rom the room. I let my weight fall back and I sunk into the sofa, clutching the cracked photo frame. I ghosted my hand over it, my fingertips gently brushing against the cracks. A piece of glass became dislodged and slid down, falling into my lap. I place the frame on the sofa beside me and with my bad hand, I picked up. I lifted it, parallel with my eyes. It glistened in the light that was flooding through the window, casting millions of little sparkles into the air. I found myself mesmerized by it, moving it around between my thumb and index finger. I pushed the soft part of my thumb into the sharp edge and stared as a small drop of blood beaded up around it. It ran up the glass and slowly began to trickled down the side of my hand. I snapped the glass against palm, closing my hand. I felt it digging into my skin but it didn't hurt.

I lifted my other arm, my fist balled up. My hands were trembling as I brought the shard to my thin wrist. I could see a line that rose up where my bone was that ran up the length of the inside of my arm. My vein bulged out, larger than it usually was. I tilted my head to the side slightly. I couldn't stop thinking about Stan. How am I supposed to live without him?

I chuckled darkly to myself. I couldn't. There was no point. He was my world. Without him this world is nothing but a cold barren wasteland to me. My heart ached at the idea of being forced to endure this torture without him but I smiled. I needed pain. I needed to stop Stan from creeping into my head, telling me that I'm worthless. But he was right.

"Kyle, don't," I heard his voice but I ignored him. He sounded strange. He was usually dark, evil, but his tone was lined with worry. "Please, Kyle. You don't need me. You have other people who care about you,"

"Fuck you Stan," I mumbled, not looking up. I wanted to hear his velvety voice, I wanted him here, but I was scared. Scared he would make me feel even worse than I already am. Only he could do that. He was the only person who knew how to get to me, who could make me do whatever he wanted. All he had to do was smile at me after doing something wrong, and all would be forgiven.

But then there was Eric. I didn't have to do as he said, but I felt an impulse to do so. Fuck him though, fuck him and fuck everybody else in this fucking shit hole.

"Listen to me. Please, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I knew I drove you to your death,"

"You're already dead dumbass,"

"Not in your head though,"

"Like I'm supposed to know what the fuck that is supposed to mean,"

"It means," I felt a gush of warm air rush toward me. "That I'm not really Stan,"

I rolled my eyes. "You sure look like him, for a fucking ghost," Stan let out a sigh.

"I'm not a ghost. Jesus christ Kyle, I thought you were the smart one,"

"Well you sure got that wrong,"

"I'm just in your head, and yes, you are smart. You must have been to dream someone like me up," I didn't look at him, but I knew he would have a cheesy grin plastered on his face. Great, even ghost Stan likes to fucking gloat.

"Oh yeah? Then why the fuck did you try and make me kill myself yesterday? I thought this what you wanted," I huffed. I gripped the glass harder, the sharp edges sliding against my already tender skin painfully.

"That wasn't me. Well, it was, but it's different," he paused as if he was thinking.

"No it's not. You're just acting more like the decent Stan so I feel bad for myself and so you remind me of what I did so you get what you want, my death," I pressed the tip of the shard against my wrist. It tickled.

"No! That's not true. Fucking hell Kyle. Why do always have to make everything so bloody complicated? You have no idea what it's like your head, it's so messed up,"

"I know exactly what it's like in my head, now fuck off," I didn't mean it. I wanted him to stay, but I was stubborn as fuck.

"I know you want me to stay, and I'm not going anywhere,"

Great. So ghost Stan can read read my fucking mind.

"Yes, I can, so don't even bother,"

"To do what?" I frowned? The only thing I was tempted to do right then was plunge this stupid piece of glass into either one of two things. Stan's annoying as fuck ghost, or myself.

"That. You just thought it then. Don't you even dare Kyle,"

"Why, what are you gonna do about it?" I threw my head up and glared at him. My breathing hitched. He looked genuinely concerned for me. No blood, no gore, no cold icy glint of hatred in his eyes. This was my best friend Stan, not asshole evil as fuck Stan who wants me dead.

"No, I don't want you dead and I am concerned. There isn't anything I can do to stop you, but I can sure as hell try," he looked determined. I sighed. My eyes fell back, looking at my wrist. The deadly point had sunk slightly into my skin, a speck of blood was forming around it. I pushed it in further, my breathing escalating.

"Kyle! For fuck's sake! Don't you-"

"Get out of my head,"

"You don't mean that. I can see it,"

"I don't care, go away,"

Slowly, I drove the glass down, pain seemed to be ripping my arm apart. I could feel the heat engulfing me starting to disperse.

"Kyle Ple..." his voice died away and I was left in a complete silence that was so strong it was screaming at me. Is it possible for a silence to be loud?

I wasn't cutting my wrist deeply, and I knew it couldn't kill me, but everything was gone. A calm wave of peace washed over my body, despite me being in complete agony. It felt good. Too good. But Stan was gone. I didn't want him to go. Was the thought of seeing him why I was doing this? Did I think I would see him if I put my life in danger? I didn't know, but he was gone.

And, I found myself too scared to do it.

This is what I had been wanting, but I couldn't even fucking do it. I couldn't to fuck all, could I? Stan was gone now, and killing myself felt about as pointless as living. Why the fuck did everything I want ripped away from me in some way or another?

I dragged myself to my room and collapsed onto my bed. I was tired. I let my eyes flutter shut and the comforts and horrors of sleep came to me as I drifted away.

A/N: Sup Jews. I can safley say that we will have one more Kyle chapter, then it's Cartman time! then maybe another chapter after that, and then we will have Kyman! Yay!

Drop a review down in le crotch? Pwetty pwease?


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Yeah, this is really unrelated, but I have just watched the last episode of Scrubs, and fuck I'm still crying. I actually can't stop! I love JD so much... I miss him :(

Anyways, enough about Scrubs (Despite how fucking awsome it it, definatly my second favourite TV show ever) and onto the Kyman!

Oh, and thankies sooooooooooooo much for all the reviews! And if Molly Hughes is reading this, I would just like to say an extra big thank you to you for actually reading this, and I must admit, I'm a little shocked that you've started your own South Park fic just because you read this, but heck, why not?

Chapter 14 - - -KYLE POV- - -

Eric was avoiding me at school for the rest of the week.

He had started sitting at Craig's table instead of in his usual seat. He wouldn't talk to me, annoy me, rip on me or anything. It was strange, but had a sense of peace to it. I was confused though, and for some reason, I didn't like it. It was already quiet enough with Stan gone, and Kenny would barely talk, hell he would barely turn up to school. It wasn't like this was anything new, sometimes he would dissapear for days on end, sometimes even months. He'd usually be pissed off when he got back, and wouldn't talk about it. I'll admit, it did annoy me that he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. He just kept saying he had stuff at home going on, so I just nodded. When I asked Butters' about it, he got all nervous and tried to change the subject. Something weird was certainly going on, but I couldn't tell what.

I was wearing a long sleeved shirt to try and hide my wrist, and thankfully, no one had noticed or said anything yet. I had a feeling that if I had seen Kenny more, he would have picked me up on it instantly. He had a thing for doing that. I guess he was just observant. Wendy wasn't in school either, and I won't deny it, I was worried about her. I wasn't sure if it was how she nearly killed herself last time I saw her, or the fact she wanted to talk to Bebe, but I knew something bad was happening. I wanted to get Wendy away from Bebe, tell her everything the blonde did, but that would only complicate matters. It was tempting, but I decided to wait until I next saw her. At least that way I would know if she's okay instead of just calling her.

I hadn't seen Stan since Ike had given me the picture, and I was craving everything about him. But I shook my head, he was gone. He was just a figment of my imagination. I was glad, but dissapointed at how he didn't appear. Was it because he had stopped me from killing myself when I had tried to slit my wrist? Was he gone now because he thought I was safe? If that was the case, then I had a feeling I would be recieving a visit from the other Stan...

I certainly wasn't looking forward to that. My stomach clenched up everytime his blood soaked face entered my mind. It sickened me, and reminded me constantly that it was my fault he was like that. All my fault.

It was a friday, and I wasn't particually looking forward to the weekend. More than anything, I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but I still found it hard to even get an hour of rest. Kenny was in class today, but wasn't saying much. We sat, side by side in maths, a comfortable silence hanging in the air. I wasn't too keen on talking, and neither was he. Everybody was happy. He must have had something on his mind he wanted to ask me though. He kept glancing at me, then he would look as if he wanted to say something, but with a miniscule movement he would shake his head and go back to his algebra. When he did this for the fifth time, I slammed my pencil down on the table.

"Dude, you got sommat to ask me? Because you are driving me fucking crazy," I glared at him, annoyed. He sighed.

"No, it's nothing,"

"Bullshit, tell me,"

"Fine," he mumbled. "There is a party at Token's tonight, and I was wondering if you'd wanna come, y'know, we haven't spoke much lately. It might be good to go out,"

Was that all? He just wanted to go to a party with him? I weighed the situation in my head; I couldn't really be bothered going, but it would make Kenny happy if I did. I wanted to spend more time with my best friend, but the night life has never been my thing. Besides, Mom hates me going to house parties and stuff, she thinks I'll get mugged or something. She thinks childeren under the age of 21 shouldn't be allowed out after eleven pm, and she's tried multiple times to have a curfew set in the town, but this is South Park. Nobody gave a fuck.

Chewing my bottom lip, I finally came up with an answer: "Yeah, sure. Why not?" It would be a distraction. I needed a lot of those. They were the only things to stop me from loding it. If I already haven't.

Kenny looked at me puzzled with a frown. "You sure? I mean, I never thought you were the-"

"Kenny, I'll go, " I rolled my eyes and forced a smile. The blonde grinned.

"Fuck yes! This is awesome! I'll ask Butters if he want's to as well," I cringed slightly, remembering what happened in the toilets. It felt so weird, not that I have anything against gays or anything. I mean, I am gay, aren't I? I was for Stan, but... he was the only one I really paid any attention to. I've never considered any body else. I don't find girls attractive, so does that make me asexual now? No, I could never imagine being like that... I'm still gay, but not for any body at the moment I guess.

But what happened with Eric in the corridor...

I still hadn't gotten my head around it... I mean, I didn't think of him like that. That was just a fucking weird thought, I didn't know how anything like that could be possible. I'll admit, he is surprisingly good looking. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders... he had everything I liked about Stan. Besides, I was fantasizing about Stan. Not fatass himself. It confused me, and I had no idea what tot hink of it. It's just more embarresing than anything else, and with everything else going on, I didn't even know why I was letting it bother me. It was hardly anything important.

I was in a haze, thinking through the reasons that could have caused what happened when suddenly I heard a loud click and I was ripped out of my thoughts. I blinked and flinched back. Kenny had snapped his fingers in front of me. How long was I out for? Jesus...

"Dude," he hissed quietly under his breath, glaring at me sidways.

"Huh...? Wh-what?" I glanced around the classroom, taking in the thirty pairs of eyes staring at me. I felt my cheeks burn as I noticed the teacher frowning at me.

"Mr Kyle?" The teacher asked. I tried to recall his name but I couldn't remember. He was a fucking asshole though.

"U-Um, yes?"

"The answer to question eight," he motioned to the text book opened in front of me. I let out an annoyed huff. Like I gave a fuck about maths. Like I gave a fuck about passing my exams, fuck my life. I didn't give a shit. Two months ago, I would never have been thinking like this, but I had changed. I hadn't really noticed up until that very moment, but the realization hit me like a tsunami. I had changed so fucking much, and I hadn't even noticed. Everyone else did though. That was obvious, very obvious.

I was depressed, suicidal, pissed off all the time. I couldn't care less about anything. And I didn't even fucking notice...

"Can suck my balls," I grunted. I recalled a certain brunette saying something similar, but didn't pay any attention to it. I wasn't worried about the repucutions of what I was doing. I just wanted them to know that I didn't give a crap. I was expecting everyone to gasp and stare at me wide eyed and shocked, but most of them just shrugged and went back to there work. I frowned. Why the fuck wasn't anybody bothered?

"Kyle, please wait outside for me," the teacher smiled. Fucking creepy. He looked as if he was happy I was being a stubborn jackass. It didn't make any sense.

"Fuck's sake," I grumbled, standing up. I swung my bag over my shoulder and picked up my pen, then shoved it into my pocket. I stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind me. I was sick of all this nice shit. Everyone was either treating me like crap, or like a fucking lovesick princess. It was pissing me off, neither of them were helping me at all. I just wanted things to go back to how they were. I would give up anything to rewind and live the days were I didn't have to worry about anything. Sure, my childhood was fucked up as hell, but at least Stan was there with me the whole time. I wouldn't have been able to put up with it without him.

Instantly, at the thought of the raven haired boy, I found myself quickly becoming choked up. A thick lump was rising in my throat and I bit down on my lip. I was fucking crying, again. I couldn't stop. I wanted to see Stan, and now I was getting all fucking emotional for the hundereth time in the last fucking week. I felt a low growl building up in the back of my throat that was threatening to turn into a scream of anger. I was desperate to let it go; apparently shouting helps relieve stress. But that's proberbly bullshit. Everything was.

"Stop fucking crying," I mumbled pitifullly to myself. I smashed my head lightly against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. I had to get out of here. I would only humiliate myself if the teacher came out and saw me all puffy eyed with tears streaming down my face. But where was their to go? Home? No... certainly not. Mom would kill me. I could go to the park or something... Ah fuck it. I couldn't be bothered. The park didn't mean anything to me, it was fucking crap. Maybe I should just stay here.

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. This place was driving me fucking insane. With a deep breath I straightened myself up. I decided just a walk would do. I needed time to get my head in order. I needed that an awful lot lately.

I guess Wendy was thinking the same thing because it wasn't long before I bumped into her. She looked upset, and I found myself feeling guilty. It was my fault she was crying. Her make-up was smudged, but when she saw me, she faked a small smile. I forced one back trying not to be rude.

"Um, hey Kyle," her voice was annoyingly high pitched as usual, but I didn't cringe away like I usually did. She chewed her nail nervously.

"Wendy," I greeted her back. I had no fucking clue what I was supposed to say. Why was I always so fucking awkward around girls?

"What are you doing out here?" She frowned. Wasn't it obvious? For the same reason she was. To get away from everything. It was all I ever wanted these days, surely it was the same for her...

"Y'know, just... wandering," I shrugged.

"That's nice," she mumbled and stepped forward. She had a far away, distant look in her eyes. "I wish I could just wander..."

I nodded, despite not knowing what the fuck she was talking about.

"Um, well, why don't you?" She pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing.

"I don't know... I guess I just can't,"

Yeah, like I know what the fuck you're talking about Wendy... Heck, she was being so confusing. Like all that crap Stan said to me the other night about him being in my head. Well screw him, I'm not fucking crazy...

"So, like... what lesson do you have?" I raised an eyebrow up at her, trying to make small talk. We both knew we were avoiding a very particular subject, but neither of us seemed brave enough to break the ice. Wendy rolled her eyes.

"Does it matter?" She said halfheartedly, tossing her long hair backwards. I shrugged again.

"I guess not," I agreed. She was right, it didn't matter. Who gives a shit if she had english or science? I certainly didn't.

"Wanna go on a walk?" She took another step toward me and offered her hand. I ignored it blatently, but nodded.

"Sure,"

We didn't talk about much, which seemed to fit us both perfectly well, even though the elephant in the room was towering over us. She wanted to talk about Stan, and so did I. But I didn't want to at the same time, yet I was curious as to what would happen to the baby she was carrying. It felt weird letting a girl I was previously jealous as fuck over know all my problems. I knew I should have been talking to Kenny, or even Butters, anybody that I knew better than the raven haired girl beside me. But I could relate to her. I knew she was hurting too, maybe even as much as I was. I needed someone who undertood what I was going through, and who better that the deceased's girlfriend?

"Kyle," she said my name, shattering the peaceful silence around us. I blinked and looked down at her. She was one of the only people I knew who was actually shorter than me.

"Yes...?" I felt anxious all of a sudden. My gut was telling me she was about to bring up something both of us were anticipating. She paused a moment, stopping in her tracks and closing her eyes briefly before speaking.

"I... I'm really scared,"

Instantly, I felt a surge of pity toward the small girl. She looked so fragile and broken, all I wanted to do was tell her everything was going to work out. But I knew it wasn't going to. Both of our lives were ruint. She was pregnant at fourteen and I was on the verge of having a breakdown. All because of the death of one person. Of course, there were plenty of other things thrown in there too, like Bebe and Eric, but right at that moment, they didn't matter, I just wanted Wendy to be okay.

"I know..." I murmered, moving closer to her. "I know..."

Her bottom lip began trembling and she looked at me with those sad eyes that could win the heart of any man. I instantly gave into them and let her fall into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling a large flush of body heat press up against me. I stroked her hair gently, pursing my lips. It felt weird to be embracing Wendy Testaburger, but I couldn't just turn her away. She was vulnerable, and I knew how much a simple gesture like a hug from a friend could help at times like these. It wasn't as if it was anything intimate or anything, I was simply comforting her, and she was returning the favour in some way I couldn't quite identify.

I appreciated the close human contact, but in a selfish way, I think. It just felt nice to have someone held close to me since Stan wasn't around. He would cradle me and let me cry on his shoulder pathetically whenever something bad happened and I guess I missed it. I used to comfort him quite a lot too, Stan had always been a little over emotional and spilt tears far more often than I did. Actually, before my life went to hell, I barely ever cried. Now I can't stop fucking doing it.

"So, what's going to happen?" She sniffed, and pulled away from me. I gulped.

"Have you..." I prepared to ask her something I had been dreading. "Talked to Bebe?"

For some reason, I felt terrified. I had to tell her what was going on. I simply had to.

"N-No... I haven't heard from her, and, I guess I'm kinda worried. Her Dad has been pretty crappy to her lately, and I'm a little scared they might have done something..." her voice went to a small whisper as her eyes fell to the ground.

"What do you mean?" I ask, a frown etching onto my face. Wendy let out a deep sigh.

"Do you... Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

I nodded.

"Okay," she mumbled. "Well, I guess it's okay to tell you. See, in the last few months Bebe has been getting well..." she trailed off and looked embarresed.

"Well...?" I tilted my head to the side, waiting intently for her to explain.

"It's just... well, her Dad has been having a bit of a drinking problem and he kinda gets pretty drunk sometimes..." her eyes glazed over as if she was recalling a horrific memory. She shuddered, grimacing, then continued. "Well, he does stuff to her,"

"He raped her," although it was supposed to come out as a question, it came out as a statement. Wendy sqeezed her eyes shut and nodded. I sighed.

"It was h-horrible," her voice cracked as she stepped away from me absent mindedly. "I-I saw it once. We were having a sleepover, and he wasn't supposed to be back until the next day. He'd been doing it before, but Bebe, she didn't say anything. But I went the bathroom and when I came back I saw... I was just... K-Kyle... I know what it was like for you. After seeing my bestfriend being violated by her own Dad... I don't know how someone could be so fucking cruel,"

I was shell shocked by what I had just heard. I had never suspected that Bebe had her own problems. Was that why she looked like shit when she came for me at Stan's house? It would explain it. But how could that have anything to do with stolen money? Or me stealing it? None of this was making any god damned sense...

"I well..." I found myself at a loss for words. "I'm sorry that happened..." I lied through my teeth. I was sick for thinking this, but I was glad that bitch was getting abused. I fucking hope her Dad his shoving his cock up her ass right this fucking moment. I hope he kills her. I felt a strong lust toward the idea of Bebe going through the pain I felt. It was a mouth watering thought.

"It's okay," Wendy smiled, bringing me down from my line of angry thoughts. I forced one back, but it didn't meet my eyes.

"Listen..." I suddenly said, an idea sprining to mind. "There's a party tonight..."

"At Token's? Yeah, I heard," she didn't seem very enthusiastic about it.

"Well, Kenny's dragging me along, it'd be cool if you came too," I flushed a scarlete red feeling embarresed at asking a girl to a party. Fuck i though, I could never be attracted to her, so it wasn't as if it meant anything.

"I dunno Kyle..." she murmered, frowning.

"Oh, well, that's okay. You don't have to come, with the y'know... it's probably best not to be drinking," I shrugged and began to walk again. Wendy followed.

"I don't have to drink if I go, sheesh. I would never expect a guy like you to go to a party and get drunk anyway..." I carried on walking, frowning at the thought of being drunk. It would be interesting, I've never had enough alcohol to even give me a buzz before. Kenny is always talking about of awesome it is, and that we should go out and get wasted, but I've never been keen on the idea. Although, at the moment, the thought of just being able to do whatever the fuck you want and not having a single worry did seem exteremly tempting.

"Who says I won't?" I gamble, and come to a stop. She does the same, and I glare down at her.

"No! No, that's not what I meant..." She shrugs. "I'll go, okay?"

"That's great," I smile, this time, slightly real and not completly fake. "I'll see you there?" I ask. She nodded.

"See you there, Kyle,"

A/N: GAHHHH FOR FUCK'S SAKE. This was supposed to be much fucking longer chappie, with the party and crappy but now it's somehow ended up being in the next chapter. Gah, I promise you, I say PROMISE you, that after the party in Kyles POV, it will be Cartmans POV and there will be a little bit of Kyman. Nothing major, but it will certainly be... fuck, Idk what the word is, but it will hopefully be intense if it goes according to plan, which it probebly won't considering I wasn't even gonna have Stan die, but fuck, Imma give it a try. After that chappie, we will have Kyman! I promise! But still, nothing too major. It will be a few chapters after that will the reason this fic is rated M become apparent!

Anyways, drop a nice, juicy, amazing review down in the crotch for me! Pwease? I don't have AIDS or anything, I promise it's safe. There is nothing to be scared of gahs, it's just a crotch. You can review, you don't have to hide away and ignore my desperate pleas for advice and critism. Plus, check my stats, I can see that there are actually at least one hundred and fifty of you who are too evil to leave a review down in my little crotch.

Seriouslah though, you gahs. It's clean and doesn't have any fucking STDs. I think.


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